Invisible Light
by balmorhea
Summary: Following the events on Starkiller Base, the First Order rushes to finish their conquest of the Resistance while Supreme Leader Snoke trains Kylo Ren for a more sinister task. With Light and Dark warring within him, is redemption possible? Meanwhile, Rey and members of the Resistance seek out any signs of Light in the galaxy. Eventual/implied Reylo.
1. Aftermath

**Invisible Light**

Chapter One

* * *

"Again."

White blinding pain.

Kylo Ren struggled to get to his feet. He fought to catch his breath over the deep ache burning through his side. Fingers went to hold the injured area gingerly before sense caught up to him again. Ren balled his fist and beat against it, forcing his mind to channel the pain. His heart was beating so loudly that Ren could hear it bouncing off the walls and reverberating through his skull. And at the end of the training room, Supreme Leader Snoke stood waiting, red lightsaber in hand.

Fingers searched through Ren's mind, carelessly carving through memories until Snoke found what he was looking for. The invasion triggered pain—instinct told Ren to push him out, but this was the point of the training: pain and anger were channels for the Dark Side. There were no breaks, no periods of rest to recharge the wounded mind. Ren had to push past the sentimentality the memories brought with them, focusing instead on familiar emotions. The invading fingers burned past old memories, settling on one in particular. The mental image of his childhood flashed before Kylo Ren's eyes like an overbright light. A familiar voice ripped through his mind.

 _There's too much Dark in you, kid._

Ren roared in anger, pushing past the invisible barriers in his mind, focusing purely on the rage and betrayal that single sentence held. He ran at Snoke with the lightsaber in hand, slashing at the visions of the other students staring, laughing. He could hear Luke Skywalker whispering to his mother that he was struggling to harness the Light. Han Solo laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. _There's too much Dark in you, kid._ Ren slashed at all of it, pushing against Snoke as he fought to overpower his own mind. The image of the Jedi school was shattered, the words of the callous father cut silent.

The memory disappeared, replaced by the calm embrace of darkness.

There was something hard underneath him. Ren's vision returned; he was lying on the floor again. He could see his lightsaber lying abandoned nearby, extinguished. Snoke walked a lap around him before giving the familiar order to the silent room.

"Again."

Ren shut his eyes. His whole body was agony. Every time he tried to focus his mind on the Dark Side, a nagging vision kept interrupting. Han Solo, the enemy, dead by his hand. Kylo Ren had passed the last test. But instead of giving him strength, the knowledge tore at the secret holes inside of him. A pressure was crushing him from the inside. Ren couldn't focus his mind.

 _Too much Dark._

Ren forced the memory away, putting his palms to the floor as he lifted his heavy shoulders up, grimacing. His arms protested, but Ren forced his body to cooperate. Snoke was already inside his mind, invading, probing for more. Highlighting the memories of all the lives Ren had taken over the years no longer affected him; the night the Padawans were slaughtered had been Snoke's favorite tool for some time. Now the Supreme Leader had to delve deeper, to where Kylo Ren tried to keep certain memories secret even from himself.

There was only red. Ren slashed away at the memories Snoke brought forth, fighting against the pain of the invasion, the pain of unhealed injuries, against his own private assessment of his weakness. Lightsabers clashed and pushed against each other, Snoke's movements more assured than that of his student. Finally, when the lights in the walls and ceiling exploded from his student's exertion and plunged the room into darkness, when Kylo Ren was lying on the floor once more, Supreme Leader Snoke extinguished his lightsaber.

"That is enough for today."

On the ground, Ren tried to orient himself—he knew he was on base, but the memory of Han Solo's death kept replaying in his mind. How long ago had that been? He could hear Snoke speaking to him, but the words didn't quite register. Ren made no movement to get up. His energy was spent, and not even the Force could supplement it.

"I'll send for the medical droid," Snoke continued from somewhere in the distance, his voice low and stiff. Disappointed. "When you are recovered, we will meditate together."

Somewhere a door opened. Auxiliary lights flickered into life. There were footsteps and words exchanged, but Ren continued to lay motionless on the floor, feeling like he had been turned inside-out. His mind was raw with Snoke's constant invasion. He tried to focus on his training—any training—but it all seemed so far away. Ren allowed several pairs of hands to pick him up off the floor. He wasn't aware of being placed on a gurney toward the infirmary until the sharp smell of disinfectant reached his nose.

The overhead lights were blinding. All around were biohazard warnings. Ren recognized the Medical Ward, but he couldn't remember why he was there. Droids tried to remove his clothing but Ren forced them away. Pain exploded in his side at the effort, and suddenly his surroundings made sense. Ren shut his eyes tightly, trying to empty his mind. His days of Jedi training were far into the past, but they still had their uses. He winced as the droids resumed their work, his eyes snapping open in response to the stinging pain.

"Sir, you must lay back down," the nearest droid, a 4-1B unit, commanded expressionlessly. A single probe reached out to push Ren back down, and Ren mentally swatted it away.

"That's enough." Ren recognized his own voice, but he wasn't aware of having spoken.

"The application of a new mesh requires the patient to lie prone," the droid replied.

Ren, rolling onto his side in his weak attempt to sit up, looked down at his unhealed wound—a gruesome shot from that Wookie's blaster—and sighed heavily. His head rested against the cool surface of the table. Ren was tearing the injury open daily; even cybernetic skin wouldn't hold the packing gauze in. He lay back on the medical pod, grimacing and too tired to argue. "Then be quick…"

There was blood, and a lot of it, soaking through the clotting powder and bandages the droids worked with. He tried not to wince when the droid began packing gauze into the wound, a process that seemed to take an eternity. Ren's life had been saved by these units after General Hux had rescued him from the forest—a thought Ren could barely stomach, and knew Hux relished all too much. Yet once the immediate threat of death was put to rest, Snoke insisted Ren continue his training, unhealed. The Supreme Leader explained that the pain would provide a channel for the Dark Side, and Ren knew not to question it. Snoke pushed Ren to his breaking point each day, forcing the student to use up all his energy in channeling the Force. As a result, the wounds sustained on Starkiller Base never quite healed, being torn open anew day after day.

Ren lost patience sometime after his blaster wound was rebandaged, when the droids were poking at the lacerations on his face and shoulder. He mentally pushed the droids away, wincing as he slid off the medical pod. He grabbed his shirt and marched past the protesting droids, ignoring anyone that glanced his way out of the corners of their eyes. Ren could feel their stares, could sense their dark curiosity of the mangled leader of the Knights of Ren. He was only glad General Hux was out on duty on a separate ship; he couldn't bear the other man's condescension. Ren marched past them all, waving doors open as he went. His private quarters weren't too far from Medical, and it wasn't until he was safely hidden inside that he let out the breath he had been holding, that he allowed himself to lean against the wall for support.

Now that no probing eyes were watching, Ren let his shoulders slump, let a hand absently hold his injured side as he walked toward the latrine. The lights came on as an afterthought as he moved, and for the first time in weeks, Kylo Ren dared to glance at his appearance in the polished mirror.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, so there was no real sense of shock. The laceration to his cheek was half-healed; no doubt it would leave a jagged scar. An image of the scavenger girl flashed briefly in his mind, but Ren shut it out. He washed the remaining dried blood from his skin, wincing as his work took him to more delicate areas. His pale skin was blemished with deep bruises—were they from the battle or his training with Snoke? Satisfied that this was as good as it was going to get, Ren pulled his shirt on and moved delicately toward his cabin, all the lights falling dim as he went.

Snoke had insisted Ren stay on his ship to train and recover; the Supreme Leader never stayed on one planet long enough to establish a formal base of operations. Ren lay down gingerly, watching the view of distant planets and bright stars go by through the window.

There it was again. A sort of tugging in his mind. He couldn't explain it, and while he hadn't told him yet, Ren knew Snoke could see it, too. Some bizarre link to the scavenger girl he had been unable to defeat. He could see her in dreams that didn't belong to him, and feel a strangely heavy presence in his mind when she seemed to become aware of it, too. It wasn't just the Force; while all Force-sensitives were cosmically linked, this was different somehow. He was instantly tempted to crush it, to block it out, but something stronger held him back. It was that same feeling that seemed so bewitching back on Base—and, perhaps, the feeling that prevented the Scavenger from killing him when she had her chance.

He would have to seek the guidance of the Supreme Leader. He couldn't let the girl get inside his head ever again.

Ren felt a shift in the ship's navigational pull, and figured it must be landing somewhere. _Good,_ he thought dully. He needed to get away from probing eyes and the buzz of frightened fascination that followed him everywhere on the Supreme Leader's ship. His mask had been destroyed along with the planet—there was no barrier Ren could rely on to separate himself from the world around him, to keep up that wall of intimidation and mystery. His features were darker than that of either of his parents, but Ren couldn't help but fear that everyone would recognize him with his face now exposed, despite having disappeared from the life of Ben Solo over ten years before. The leader of the Knights of Ren was just a _boy,_ he could hear them think. A charming face. One that stirred feelings far short of fear.

He much preferred being thought of as a creature. A machine. Anything other than human.

Ren felt the ship slow in its navigation, coming to what almost felt like a complete stop before it approached the destination planet's atmosphere. The space around him darkened and then brightened exponentially as Snoke's ship permeated the atmosphere, smoothly descending toward the planet's surface. After a few minutes he heard a ring at his door. Ren sighed in exasperation, trying to pull himself up without aggravating his injury. He walked heavily to the main door, leaning tiredly against the wall for support.

"What is it?"

"We're landing in T minus two minutes, sir," came a nervous voice through the intercom. "Felucia. The Supreme Leader requests your presence."

Ren let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his tired eyes roughly. "Very well." Without waiting for the officer's response, he shut off the intercom and searched his quarters for his discarded wardrobe. Felucia was hot and humid, a dense jungle of a planet in the outer rim. It was one of Snoke's primary secure bases, and an ideal place to retire without being disturbed.

The Supreme leader was situated in the Bay, surrounded by a careful arrangement of hand-selected Stormtroopers. Ren marched past them, careful to keep his face empty of any pain or exhaustion. Snoke looked him over carefully, and Ren straightened to his full height when he took his place next to him. Ren stared straight ahead, even when he could feel fingers probing at his mental walls, evaluating.

"You did not let the droids finish," was Snoke's final assessment as the ship landed with an almost imperceptible thud. Pressure valves released and the heavy door climbed open, flooding the Bay with the greenish light of the planet.

"The pain helps me focus."

Snoke regarded Ren for a moment longer, but didn't comment. The Stormtroopers led the way down the Bay and onto the receiving platform. The humidity hit Ren like a punch to the gut; after spending so long on the wintry surface of Starkiller Base, the jungle felt claustrophobic. He ignored his discomfort and followed Snoke to the entrance of the outpost, which had been outfitted with First Order flags and other impressive regalia. Stormtroopers and officers stood at attention in full uniform; Ren could feel a handful breaking protocol and following them with their eyes.

"Prepare our quarters," Snoke instructed the welcoming guard without sparing a glance. "We will retire to the meditation chamber shortly."

"Yes, sir."

"And prepare for the arrival of General Hux's party this evening," Snoke continued. He paused, then turned to glance at a silent Ren. "Your disappointment is clear, but his visit will not interfere with your training for long."

Ren clenched his jaw, choosing not to respond. He had successfully managed to avoid General Hux thus far, and he certainly did not look forward to their long-awaited reunion.

The newcomers were escorted to their private quarters—large, open rooms of sandstone and basalt with pale silk drapes. There were no covers on the windows, which opened to the lush green jungle outside. Avian creatures sang and conversed all around, their wings flapping softly against the surface of the lake outside. In the corner of the private room, local clothing of fine linen and silk had been laid out, a much needed replacement to the heavy wool Ren wore. He was glad to see the apparel had been dyed black, the customary color of the Knights of Ren. The common brown and grey was too similar to the uniform of the Jedi.

The Supreme Leader was already at ease when Ren winced his way into the meditation chamber a few minutes later. The chamber was more of an open gallery on the water's edge, outfitted with thin curtains and lit torches. The mechanical sounds of the outpost were muted here. Ren took his place across from Snoke, trying not to grimace as he lowered himself to the cool stone floor.

Unlike Jedi, who meditated side by side, Snoke had taught Ren that in the Dark side, master and student always sat in plain view of the other to prevent a murder attempt. Ren was familiar with the lore of the Sith, and while he had the utmost respect for it, the idea of murdering Snoke seemed preposterous.

They sat in equal silence for over two hours, still as statues. Ren caught his mind wandering more than once and focused on making it blank. Snoke encouraged Ren to instead summon forth particular images or emotions, but that quickly became overwhelming. The Jedi way was the only method of meditation Ren had mastered; the passionate Dark side consumed him almost immediately, making focus impossible.

"You are troubled."

Ren opened his eyes to see Snoke studying him. Strangely, there was something like suspicion in his voice.

"Your mind is fragmented," Snoke continued. Immediately Ren could feel Snoke probing through the boundaries of his mind, skimming over everything, but the Supreme Leader made no attempt to penetrate. "The Light and the Dark are at war within you again."

A month ago, when Ren had first been assigned the task of finding the map to Skywalker, he had meditated with Snoke. At that time, the Dark was overpowering the Light. Ren had been sure he was finally mastering the weakness he perceived within himself—so what changed?

"I am torn apart," Ren admitted softly. Again, the image of Han Solo's stunned face when the lightsaber plunged through his heart entered his mind's eye, unwelcome and uninvited. "Solo's death was supposed to bring me strength, but it has only weakened me."

"It was the final test," Snoke replied in careful tones. "Which you have passed without question."

Ren's dark brows knitted together. How could he voice his frustration with his master? Snoke had promised that killing Han Solo would put an end to the war between the Light and Dark inside of Ren—but it had only fueled it. "I have no mastery of the Dark side," Ren continued, frowning. As he spoke, something like doubt stirred in his chest. "Each time I feel it in my grasp, I let go—I feel as though I am back at my beginning."

"You are young still," Snoke said knowingly. "And while you have spent the last twelve years under my guidance, many more lie ahead of you—no one, even one as strong as you, can master the Force in such time."

Ren was unconvinced. Nights were spent in dreams that didn't belong to him, reaching out to an invisible Force that beckoned to him, neither Light nor Dark. The girl from Jakku was more than a coincidence, but Snoke refused to entertain any mention of her. It wasn't because she was irrelevant…Snoke knew something Ren didn't, something he wanted to keep hidden to himself. The Supreme Leader often spoke of his pleasure in Ren's progress, but he was always cold, distracted. The praise was a mask for his heavy disappointment.

There was something significant but unspoken between them, deepening the chasm that was steadily growing between master and student.

Ren opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself before he let out a hundred irrelevant questions. "Forgive me, master," he finally said, changing his mind mid-thought. "Your teaching is wise and your guidance strong—if only it fell on a more worthy student."

"Kylo Ren," Snoke said, his ancient voice heavy and commanding, as though coming from within the walls and the planet itself. "I have chosen you specifically for your make up—if I wanted a student strong with only the Dark side, I would have found him. But even the Dark side has its drawbacks, and such students are prone to fall to its weaknesses. You are made of more worthy clay—look what I have molded you into thus far—"

"Forgive me, I do not mean to sound ungrateful," Ren said quickly. He felt lost. Snoke had explained the balance of Light and Dark he sought in Ren, but he couldn't see the point. The Light made him weak. It held him back from his potential of a student of the Dark Side, worthy of the Supreme Leader's guidance. "Something has gotten inside of me," he admitted hollowly.

Snoke fell silent, studying Ren with narrowed eyes. The air between them was tense, electric. "What do you mean?"

"The girl—the Scavenger," Ren explained cautiously. "When she resisted me, she saw inside of me—I can't get her out of my head."

"The connection of the Force? She is following you?" Snoke inquired slowly.

"No…" Ren replied slowly, frowning as he thought. "No, more like a bond. A chain. I can feel her even when I shut her out. I see her when I sleep—I see what she sees."

Snoke straightened up, an unreadable look on his scarred and ancient face. He was silent for a long moment as he pondered over Ren's words. Finally, he said, "A link between you and the girl. She can lead you to Skywalker."

Ren was stunned into silence a moment before speaking. The implication was clear. "I don't believe I'm ready."

Snoke turned to look at him thoughtfully, carefully. Ren was tall, but Snoke's almost half-alien, half-human form was taller. "Such a shift in your countenance. Tell me, Kylo Ren, what has become of your confidence? Do not tell me your defeat by the girl has shaken you. There is a connection with her that neither of you can fight."

"No, Master," Ren said quietly, unable to look at Snoke as he spoke, afraid of the disappointment he would see if he did. He tried to keep his voice neutral even as the memories returned to the front of his mind. "It's more than that…"

"The death of Han Solo has affected you greatly," Snoke said slowly. He let out a breath through his scarred nose before continuing, "It is not his death that weakens you—it is your sentiment. Do you remember when I first explained the Dark side to you, Kylo Ren?"

An image of a boy not much older than ten flashed in Ren's mind. "Yes."

"The emotions you are feeling are strong with the Dark side, not against it," Snoke told him wisely. "It is the way of the Jedi to be unfeeling after taking a life, however difficult. It would be unlike you—and unlike our way—to feel anything less after what you have managed. Masters of the Dark welcome all passionate emotions—your sensitive ability to feel is what guides your strength. You have the Dark inside you already—you must only harness it."

"I'm not so sure about that," Ren admitted quietly, meeting Snoke's pale, probing gaze. "It's getting stronger."

"The Light," Snoke mused, sitting straighter. "How strong is the pull?"

"I need your guidance," Ren continued, his desperation making him feel childlike. "Now, more than ever."

"The Light and the Dark are always warring inside you," Snoke told him evasively. "Each locked in a constant battle for domination."

"I can harness the Dark, you have shown me before," Ren said quickly. "I am weak now, but with your teaching, I will conquer it."

"That is more like you." Snoke took a deep breath, fixing Ren with a studious gaze. "We will resume your training after our meeting with the General."

Ren slept poorly that night. Dreams of a vast ocean kept finding their way into his head; he wasn't sure if this was because he had found the vision on the Scavenger's mind, or if he was truly seeing it through her. Each time he awoke, the tiny island chain felt more real. By morning he was sure he had been there.

The morning routine was more peaceful on the lush planet than in the Supreme Leader's starship. After the 4-1B medical droid had been sent in to tend to the healing of his injuries, Ren settled himself on the window's ledge, watching the smooth water of the lake churn with life beneath him. A soft, hot breeze was blowing through the humid air, and the sky was an overcast green. The local silk was light against Ren's bones, allowing his skin to breathe properly for the first time in ages.

It was very unlike the Dark side to seek peace in meditation, but that is what Ren always did—his one wicked indulgence in his old ways. His mind was overcome with anger most of the time, and a few hours of peaceful quiet—away from the military and the starships—allowed Ren time to sort through his cluttered and torn up mind.

When his private indulgence came to an end, Ren dressed and prepared to meet with Snoke and the General. He hadn't seen Hux—or remembered seeing Hux, rather—since their brief encounter in the Communications Chamber on Base. No doubt Hux would need far more than a few weeks to forget seeing Ren in such a wretched state: defeated by an untrained sand rat and dying in the snowy forest. The thought stirred rage in the pit of Ren's stomach, and with that feeling, he entered the Operations room.

Snoke and Hux were already seated, the latter of which looked around at the newcomer. Hux's pale eyes narrowed, and Ren saw a sneer form across his face. He could feel Hux reflecting on his memories of that day, relishing the moment he had power over Ren and his fate.

As he no longer had his mask, Ren was forced to present himself bare faced at all official military meetings. Stormtroopers and lower ranking officers were frightened of him regardless, but Ren worked to fix his face into a mask of silence and intimidation. He took his seat, careful not to lean too heavily on the table as he did so, careful not to grimace with pain, and made cold eye contact with Hux. Just enough to warn him, Ren reached forward with his mind to probe that of the General. He saw Hux's smirk fade at the intrusion, watched how the man adjusted his weight uncomfortably in his seat. Ren was tempted to push further, to shove his way into Hux's mind, but a gentle prodding on his own psyche from Snoke stopped him. Ren withdrew, a cold satisfaction shielding him from embarrassment.

"Your final report, General," Snoke said, breaking the tense silence.

"Starkiller Base collapsed after the stabilizers holding the planet together failed, a direct result of the attack from the rebels. Most officers made it out in time, but we suffered heavy casualties regardless. All divisions were rerouted to Centax-2 for debriefing. Intelligence indicates our base was infiltrated—the shields were dropped from the inside, allowing Resistance fighters to target the stabilizers. Our intelligence team determined the infiltrators escaped the destruction of the planet, disappearing in a Corellian freighter, escorted by surviving TIE fighters."

"You were unable to intercept the Millennium Falcon?" Ren asked, immobile from his place across from General Hux. His face was impassive, unreadable.

"We might have had the opportunity," Hux replied pointedly, turning to look directly at Ren. "had we not instead spent that time rescuing you off that planet."

It was a deliberate jab, but Ren didn't react to the irritation that flared in the pit of his stomach. He stared back at the haughty face of General Hux, feeling his emotions wash off like a tide. Hux was jealous: jealous of Ren's perceived favoritism with the Supreme Leader, of Ren's abilities with the Force. It was enough satisfaction to know the man was capable of such weak emotions that Ren let the General's comment slide.

"Enough," Snoke commanded. "General, you were following my direct orders to retrieve Kylo Ren and bring yourselves to me. The _Millennium Falcon_ , while unfortunate, could not be helped in that moment. It will be our priority now to regroup our forces. The map has undoubtedly been returned to the Resistance—it is only a matter of time before Skywalker returns. Kylo Ren," he added, turning to look at his student. "What does your connection to the Scavenger tell you?"

Ren's dark eyes suddenly turned onto the Supreme Leader, surprise crossing his face. Snoke had steadfastly avoided mention of the girl thus far, and his sudden interest in her caught Ren off guard.

"Scavenger?" Hux repeated, frowning as he looked between Ren and Snoke. "That girl Ren took prisoner?"

"She is sensitive to the Force," Snoke replied. "She is our link to Skywalker."

Hux and Ren looked at each other again, Hux's eyes narrowing at Ren.

"She is…learning," Ren finally answered lamely. He didn't know how else to explain it. The connection between them was erratic and omnipresent. Ren was acutely aware of the Scavenger at all times, but occasionally there was a violent burst of energy in their bond, overwhelming and blinding. It was impossible to say where Ren stopped and the girl began.

Hux let out a scoff before he resettled his features and spoke. Irritation and great dislike filled the room. Ren knew Snoke could sense it too, but the Supreme Leader chose not to comment. "Skywalker and the sand rat aside, the Order is facing numerous immediate problems," said Hux. "With our weapon destroyed and the elimination of Resistance strongholds half-finished, we now find ourselves at risk for retaliation."

"Half their fleet was destroyed," Ren said, his tone baiting as he watched Hux fidget across from him.

"More can be trained," Hux replied, his cold eyes falling onto Ren sharply. "Our intelligence indicates that General Organa is focusing on the outer reaches, attempting to bring more support to the Resistance."

Snoke leaned forward in his chair. "They have nothing to offer."

"The rumor of Skywalker has spread," Hux said stiffly. Ren watched the man sit up straighter in his chair. "Hope of his return," he added disdainfully.

"I will deal with Skywalker," Snoke said slowly. Hux shot another suspicious look at Ren. It was tempting to enter his mind, to play with his insecurities and his jealousy, but Ren knew the Supreme Leader would not be pleased if he did. "General Hux, you are to increase trade to our support territories. Increase the reach of our educational program. Any territory caught in talks of trade or politics with the Resistance will be dealt with in whatever manner you see fit—"

 _No_ , Ren thought darkly. _He'll blow them up._ While Ren considered himself more of a deviser, General Hux preferred deliberate displays of power. The new Star Destroyer had been his idea, and while Ren was against it from day one, Snoke had allowed its creation. Hux had no respect for life. It was fortunate he was as sensitive to the Force as a sanitation bucket.

"Your intelligence teams are to continue tracking General Organa's movements," Snoke went on. "Monitor their allies, their tracks, everything—I do not want a single ship left unwatched. Find out their trading posts—they will be scrambling to rebuild their fleet. Should you be engaged in combat, I leave that up to your professional discretion."

Ren dropped his gaze from Hux's face and stared instead at a spot on the polished table between them. Snoke knew better than to leave anything up to General Hux's "professional discretion." It was merely giving the man permission to slaughter, to make unnecessary waste of life. It would be better to engage the enemy, to weed out the rebels and accept the other planets into the unyielding power of the First Order.

"Very well, if that is all…" Snoke said heavily, gesturing to the Stormtroopers who stood guard at the doorway. A line of half a dozen high-ranking officers entered the room silently, taking the remaining seats at the table.

"And what of Ren?" Hux asked, shooting the man in question a suspicious look. Silently, Ren's eyes flickered up and watched the General coolly, his face a steady mask of dislike.

"I have my own plan for the Knights of Ren," Snoke replied dismissively. "It is time to focus on the mission at hand. Give your orders, General."


	2. I Don't Sell Ships

**Invisible Light**

Chapter Two

* * *

Rogue One's engines hummed to life.

"All right, get moving!" Nomi Sisk shouted to the others, waving am arm emphatically. "We have two minutes to get off this godforsaken fuel station!"

The tiny outer rim planet hovered in perpetual twilight, being located so far from its star. While technically considered politically neutral, the planet served as a fuel and transfer station for ships that had stronger ideological leanings. It was owned and operated by a group of wayward Besalisks that took over the uninhabited planet shortly after the fall of the Empire thirty years before. Ships of all backgrounds were welcome, provided they could pay and didn't start trouble.

Nomi walked around to the Bay doors of her cargo ship, making sure her crew had tied everything down. She gave the all clear to prepare for departure when she spotted a familiar figure making a beeline toward her.

"What the hell are you doing here, Dameron?" she demanded when he had reached her.

Poe led Nomi by the elbow to the back of her ship, away from prying eyes on the fuel station. Nomi couldn't help but notice Poe—normally cocky and full of life—looked nervous.

"You know what I've come to ask," he said quietly.

"I can't help you, Dameron," Nomi told him firmly. She checked her watch. She needed to leave if they were going to stay on schedule.

"We can pay," he said quickly. "More than your competitors—"

"The cost of transport's gone up three hundred percent," Nomi told him. Poe's face faltered a little at that. "And fuel costs two hundred and ten units a barrel. We both know the Resistance can't afford that."

Poe, though shaken, wasn't defeated. "Look, Nomi—we need this desperately—Let's talk about this—"

"I've got to go," she said, pointing at her waiting ship.

"Here's my radio frequency," he added, shoving a worn piece of paper into her hands.

"I wish I could help you," Nomi told him dismissively. His unusually serious face was disconcerting. "I do. But the First Order's already busting my balls—if they knew I was even talking to you, they would blow my business into half a dozen different systems."

"I know we can work something out," Poe continued. "We always have—"

"Yeah, but it's different now," Nomi snapped. She paused, taking a steadying breath. "I'm sorry, but it's not worth the risk to fly to your territories anymore—they're watching all our ships. You would have to come up with some crazy mess of a map to get supplies untracked—"

"We can do that!" Poe insisted. "We can cover up the tracks—the First Order will never know you were involved—"

Nomi sighed. Instinct was telling her to leave, but Poe's pleas didn't sit right in her. "I'll think about it," she said so quietly, her voice was barely heard over the sound of her ship's engines. She shot a dark look at Poe. "And I'm not promising anything—"

But Poe's face had already split into a wide grin. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

She sighed, exasperated. "Damn it, Poe, I said I wasn't promising you shit!" Nomi insisted, but even she didn't believe herself. Poe knew her too well. Once she relented even an inch with Resistance members, her conscience got in the way. "But I need to go—don't you look for me, I'll contact you myself. And I won't tell you when, because I don't know. Got it?"

Poe pulled Nomi into a bone-breaking hug. "General Organa says hello," he muttered in her ear before letting go. He offered Nomi one last grin before hurrying away, slipping behind the backs of various ships and cargo loads.

Nomi sighed, running a hand through her cropped hair. "Fuck," she muttered, shutting her eyes. " _Fuck._ "

Her watch beeped. It was time to go. Nomi hurried to the Bay doors of Rogue One, shouting, "Everyone inside! You don't make it on in kriffing two seconds, you're staying behind!"

The doors closed with an echoing thud. Nomi made her way to the cockpit, taking her usual seat. Engines were warmed, sensors online. "All right everyone, prepare for takeoff," Nomi said into her headset, flipping switches. The ship's engines roared into life as Rogue One hovered off the fueling station, taxiing around other ships before ascending into the atmosphere. Once past the planet's gravitational pull, Nomi straightened out. "Switching to light speed."

"What did the Resistance pilot want?"

Nomi turned to look at her co-pilot and her second mate, Cal Morin. He was of slight build with dark hair and a rugged, weather-worn face, but there was something of a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes that had always annoyed and amused Nomi. While Nomi was assertive, hot-headed, and blunt, Cal was more calculating and enigmatic.

"To say hi."

Cal raised an eyebrow at her, disbelief evident on his face. "It's too dangerous, Nomi. I feel for them, too, but there are other ways."

Nomi set the ship to autopilot and removed her headset. She straightened up, stretching. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Cal followed her toward the mess hall—or what served as the mess hall. The freighter was without any official quarters, and so the kitchen served as both the mess hall and the common area, as well as the operations room, the communications board, and the medical ward. Small bunkers were wedged into the front of the ship, allowing as much room as possible to hold cargo.

Nomi took her usual seat, a well-worn cushioned chair wedged between the radio panel and the alarm system, which was rusted and exposed. "We've got half an hour to Florrum," she told the crew, who were in various states of relaxation. "We unload, collect final payment, and then we're out. It shouldn't take more than two hours. Then we've picked up a side job, so we need to get to Lasan before we can head back to Takodana."

"Maz's castle's been destroyed," piped up the mechanic, an Anomid by the name of Ulas. He was busy in a game of cards with two others, glancing up at Nomi as he spoke. "The First Order swept through there three, almost four weeks ago."

"How d'you know that?"

"I heard it on Aleen, when we picked up the cargo of blasters," he replied. "There were fugitives hiding there."

"And Maz?"

"Alive, of course. I'm sure she'll rebuild."

"Huh." Nomi couldn't help but feel disappointed—she was neutral toward Maz, which was the best type of relationship to have. But she had to admit, Nomi would miss that watering hole. Nowhere else in the galaxy brewed Ebla quite like Maz's bar.

The journey to Florrum passed by in mostly silence. The planet was a sulfurous desert wasteland that Nomi avoided whenever possible, but the pirates there paid good money for weapons. She landed the ship at the given coordinates, setting the engines to idle and the shields up. One could never be too careful.

The crew had already unloaded onto the surface, squinting in the harsh light. An overwhelming smell of sulfur hit Nomi like a punch to the face, and she tried to ignore it. In the past she had worn a face mask, but the locals had taken offense to that and attempted to shoot her. While Nomi liked to think she was partnered with a different temperament of pirates this time, she erred on the side of caution.

"Welcome! Welcome to Florrum!" the nearest pirate sang, arms held out wide. His desert garb was mustard yellow, stained by the dust from the windstorms. He approached Nomi, who gave him a tight-lipped smile. "You have my shipment?"

"All forty-two of them," she replied. "You have my money?"

"Sixteen thousand," he replied, winking at her. He moved toward the cargo bay. "May I see?"

Nomi sighed, giving the all clear signal to her crew. The door slid open, the cargo loader dropped, and the crew worked on bringing out the crates disguised as planting spuds. Cal pulled the heavy tarp off the corner of one crate, revealing a blaster nestled carefully among the root vegetables.

The pirate gave a signal to his men, who had been sitting against their own ship, waiting. "And payment," the pirate added, pulling a sack from his tunic. He handed it to Nomi. "You may count it if you wish."

"I do wish," Nomi said, stepping aside. Sure enough, sixteen thousand. She stuffed the bag into an inside pocket of her jacket. "All right, let's switch these damn vegetables over."

The exchange was quick and efficient. The pirates were quick to load the cargo into their ship, and the crew of Rogue One was adept at unloading in minutes. Before the exchange could be completed, however, an official ship appeared on the horizon. Everyone paused to look at it; it was flying directly toward them.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Nomi muttered under her breath. She turned to the pirate. "You have your permits, don't you?"

The pirate shouted something unintelligible to his crew, one of whom rushed into the ship to fetch the necessary papers.

Nomi held her own carefully folded in her coat, a thick stack that allowed her to trade almost anywhere in the galaxy. They had cost her a fortune, both in money and in favors.

The ship came to a halt, lowering itself against the dusty surface. It was stark white and sleek; Nomi saw the official stamp of the First Order emblazoned on its side. Two Stormtroopers marched out, escorting a First Order official clad in all black. They approached the pirates and the crew of Rouge One.

"Your papers," the officer demanded as way of greeting. The pirate handed his over first, a wad of dirty documents clutched in his fist. The official—a tall, severe-looking man with a balding head—sorted through them slowly. He shot the pirate a disdainful look before checking for all the official seals. Satisfied, he handed them back before turning to Nomi. "And you?"

Nomi pulled hers from her coat pocket, a neat pile folded in half. She couldn't help but stare at the blasters the Stormtroopers held, updated models of the ones she was currently attempting to finish selling.

"A biological materials dealer," the official read off suspiciously, handing the papers back to Nomi. He looked at the crates that were halfway loaded into the pirate ship. "And what are we trading today?"

"Root vegetables," Nomi replied flatly. She glanced around the desert wasteland. "For planting."

The officer raised an eyebrow, stepping past them. The Stormtroopers followed, ready to fire should anyone make a sudden move. The First Order official approached the nearest crate, throwing back the tarp. It was in fact a crate full of vegetables, but nestled very clearly inside were a dozen Model Eight blaster rifles. The officer turned back to look at Nomi. "I see," he said slowly, leaving the cargo exposed as he walked back up to her. He fixed her with a penetrating gaze. "And do you also have the necessary stamp to move these _root vegetables_ across the galaxy?"

Nomi reached into a different pocket, withdrawing a small leather bi-fold. She handed it to the officer, who opened it to reveal a signed and dated stamp of the First Order. He snapped it shut, handing it back. "It is expired."

"No it isn't," Nomi said roughly. She had paid dearly for the stamp, and knew every detail about it. The stamp didn't expire for two more standard cycles.

"Due to recent activity on certain black markets, the First Order has seen fit to reissue all Level B Trading Stamps," the officer said. "Those trading without one are subject to a fine of one thousand."

Nomi fought the urge to go for her gun. She might go down with him, but her crew was surrounded by blasters—they would blow up this First Order piece of garbage in seconds.

And then be branded as fugitives, hunted to the end of the galaxy for High Treason.

Nomi reached for the bag of money in her coat. She handed over the fine, glaring at the officer with complete loathing. He returned the look with a haughty smirk.

"And there's an additional fee of one thousand to update the Stamp."

Now Nomi really wanted to murder him. She handed over the additional funds, along with her bi-fold. The officer made a show of removing a new seal and a pen, signing over the old one. "Good for six months," he told her.

Nomi snatched it back, clenching her jaw to keep from saying something she would regret.

"Very well," he said dismissively, casting one last look at the cargo. "Carry on. In future, the First Order is informing everyone in the Outer Rim to carefully research their trading partners. Heavy fines will be given to those who break the law." His eyes fell onto Nomi. "There have been attempts by the Resistance to secure weapons and fighter jets in these Systems."

"I don't sell ships," Nomi said flatly.

"All the same," the officer said, nodding to his accompanying guard. Nomi watched as the First Order boarded their ship. Within minutes engines roared into life, and the ship took off.

"Piece of shit," Nomi muttered under her breath, turning back to her crew. "Unload now before some other fucker shows up and sucks up the rest of our money."

When Rogue One was back on track to the next destination, Nomi fiddled with the piece of paper Poe Dameron had given her. It would be a huge risk to trade anything to the Resistance or their sympathizers, but a deep rage was bubbling in her chest after her encounter with the First Order. She had paid twenty thousand to get the First Order Stamp in the first place, and she knew for a fact it was still good. That slimy officer only wanted to weasel a false fee out of her because he could. It wasn't about the money—two thousand was nothing to the First Order. He had merely wanted to embarrass her, to show Nomi just how low he considered her to be.

Nomi turned on her radio, dialing the secret frequency as she went. The signal would be terrible at light speed, but there was less of a chance for someone to intercept the call.

"Poe Dameron, you've got yourself a deal," she said into the static.

* * *

Situated in the back garden early the next morning, Ren made quick work of his usual drills before summoning a handful of Stormtroopers. They were less than thrilled with their sudden new duty, but Ren needed an actual moving enemy if he was to get stronger.

His body ached with each movement, reminders of Ren's defeat in the snowy forest. His half-healed wounds had formed tight ropes of scar tissue, resistant to Ren's normally fluid movements. He had lost speed, balance, and even his range of motion. The shortcomings flared the suffocating irritation Ren kept just under the surface. He was supposed to be stronger, he reasoned. His father's death was supposed to snuff out the call to the Light, not encourage it. Yet as he worked, a gentle probing worked its way into the back of Ren's mind. An island, surrounded by vast blue ocean.

 _Leave here with me. Come home._

"Get out of my head!" Ren roared. An invisible wave of energy tore through the earth, upending the cobbled ground and sending the nervous Stormtroopers flying. Broken trees and loose stones crashed back to the earth, echoing violently. A thick cloud of dust formed and settled slowly, covering the stunned Stormtroopers in a thin film of dirt.

Ren leaned against his knees weakly, glancing around at the destruction he had caused before letting his head drop. His energy spent, there was no defense left to fight the intrusion. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and forced his tired body to straighten up. Rage was still buzzing through his limbs, electrifying him and pulsing in his chest. Ren pressed his hands against either side of his head, trying to push the pain of the Light back down.

The pull of the Light should have been destroyed. Killing his father was the key to that, Snoke had said so himself. Kylo Ren should be able to embrace the Darkness fully, letting it course through him. He was to be a true Dark master, worthy of Snoke's teachings, of Darth Vader's blood… It was his birthright.

And yet there was only pain. It consumed Ren completely, filling up his entire being and flowing out through his throat, through the furious tears that tried to escape.

His father had been a coward, and a foolhardy one at that. Yet for all Han Solo was, Ren couldn't make himself forget the emotions that emanated from the man, even in death.

Love.

Hope.

What had Han Solo been thinking, coming onto that bridge? Surely he knew it was suicide; he had to have known it was futile to tempt Ren with empty promises of home. The coward spent a lifetime running away, but something convinced the man to step onto that bridge. To give up his life. Was that why Snoke's promise hadn't come true—that killing Solo would end his pain? Was it because Solo was not cut down, but had willingly sacrificed himself? Ren couldn't make sense of it, couldn't accept it. And it enraged him.

Ren beat his fist against his wounded side, but he couldn't fight this knowledge. He breathed deeply, trying to steady himself. He needed more training, that was all. The events on Base had weakened him, but Ren would force his way through it. He always had. He took a sharp, steadying breath and turned back to the mess he had made.

The Stormtroopers had gotten to their feet warily, adjusting their armor and retrieving dropped blasters. They were careful not to look at Ren, as though their feigned obliviousness would spare them from further assault.

"Very impressive Ren," a voice drawled from nearby. Ren turned, looking up toward a nearby ledge. Hux stood at the railing, hands behind his back in his usual stance as his pale gaze swept over the source of the commotion. "And yet the Scavenger bested you."

Ren turned to face him slowly, fixing the General with a cold gaze. "Would you like to have a go, General?"

Hux swept the damaged courtyard with his piercing gaze. "Back to your duties, all of you," he barked at the Stormtroopers.

They filed out quickly, eager to get away from the whole affair. When the last footstep faded, Hux descended the steps toward the garden. "I don't care much for your sorcery," he sniffed. "True power lies in advanced weaponry and technology."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "Like that technological terror you created? Didn't the Resistance blow it up?"

"I'll remind you that it was your idea to bring a Force-sensitive girl into our Base, and not mine," Hux replied sharply. He had reached the garden, and took care to step over the piles of rubble before approaching Ren. Hux's gaze swept over the damage; he was, no doubt, pleased with the knowledge that he could tattle on Ren.

"It was almost worth it, to destroy your pet project," Ren baited. He could feel his heartbeat pulsing wildly in his injured side. His strength was fading as quickly as it had come, but Ren would die before appearing weak in front of Hux. "But no matter—Han Solo was responsible for the infiltration of Precinct 47 and I eliminated him."

Hux's lip curled as he turned to face Ren. "Is that why you were so easily beaten by an untrained desert rat?"

Ren took a few threatening steps forward, closing the distance between them. Anger flared in his chest. "Perhaps we should shoot you with a bowcaster," he said coolly. "And if you manage to survive that, place you in a duel—I shall be very interested to see how your corpse fairs."

"I'm curious," Hux bit back. He was almost as tall as Ren, and not the least bit perturbed by the other man. "Did you really think killing your father would make your witchcraft stronger?"

It was expressly forbidden by Snoke—he would be furious if he knew, and there was no doubt he would find out immediately. Regardless, Ren reached forward and forced himself into the General's mind, watching with sick satisfaction as Hux recoiled. Ren knew where to find the thought—the jealousy. He ripped it to the front of Hux's mind, letting it linger before violently retreating. Ren watched on as Hux—in control of his own mind again—quickly stamped the thought out. He glared at Ren, oozing hatred.

"Careful, Ren," he hissed, straightening to his full height. "The Supreme Leader won't be too pleased when he hears—perhaps I should suggest to him that you're too…unstable for training."

"Maybe," Ren bit back sarcastically, his tone mutinous.

Hux gave Ren a disdainful look. "Do not bother my troops again with your silly games," he hissed. "They have necessary duties to perform for the First Order, and I will not tolerate your interruptions. You are not an officer, not a member of this military, and they are not yours to command."

Ren was tempted to retort, but he was already in deep trouble with the Supreme Leader. Goading Hux further wouldn't help his case. Ren fixed the General with one last icy glare before letting out a breath, looking over the damaged courtyard. "Very well, General," he replied lightly. He moved to leave, and made it half a dozen steps before Hux called him back.

"And clean up this mess!"

"I'm not part of the military, General," Ren replied over his shoulder. "You don't command me."

He could feel the hate like a blast of fire. Ren didn't falter in his step, navigating the debris easily before ascending the steps back into the building. He could hear Hux barking orders for the Stormtroopers to tend to the mess, the curious thoughts of the guards he passed by… they were inside his head, reverberating against his skull and mixing with his own thoughts. With great mental exertion, Ren forced them back into silence, slowing his pace as he made his way down the empty corridors to his private chambers.

Ren collapsed on the bed, dirty and still fully-clothed. He was too tired to clean himself up, too tired to even call upon the medical droids to do it for him.

 _Leave here with me. Come home._

Too tired to push his father's last words from his mind, Ren fell into an uneasy sleep and dreamt of a dark shadow stalking him across a vast blue ocean.

* * *

"We must tell her."

Leia's voice was final, determined.

Luke sighed, leaning back in his seat heavily. He ran a tired hand over his face, letting it rest under his chin. He stared at a spot in the fire, debating with himself. "One day we must," he finally said. "But now is not the time."

Leia rolled her eyes, slamming an impatient hand against her lap. "Then when? Luke, we've dragged this on long enough—I sensed it when I met her, and Han did, too—she's bright, she'll figure it out on her own."

"She isn't ready," Luke replied more seriously, meeting his sister's gaze. "She's barely started training—her powers are raw and still forming. I don't want to push her away before we've even started."

It was late; the sun had dipped below the horizon hours before, and the tiny planet's moons were high in the sky, each slowly dancing around the other. The ocean tide could be faintly heard over the crackling fire within the temple. On the rocky beach far below were two ships: General Leia's personal transport, and the Millennium Falcon.

"Do you really think the news would horrify her?" Leia asked skeptically, eyes narrowed at her brother. "She likely senses it already—"

"She will have questions—questions I do not have answers to," Luke replied.

Leia sighed, letting her gaze drop. There was hardened resignation on her face. She bit the inside of her lip, then said flatly, "There is an undeniable bond between her and my son." She let out a breath slowly, then added, "They're bound together, on different sides—what will happen if they meet again?"

"Leia, we will bring him home," Luke said firmly, sensing the direction the conversation was heading. "I will do everything I can to prevent Rey from—"

"But you can't," Leia interrupted. "The Force is stronger than any of us—we cannot control our destiny."

Luke sighed again. "Do you really believe that?"

Leia shot him an annoyed look. "Of course I do—don't you?"

"No."

Leia scoffed. "And you're the Jedi."

"The Jedi haven't always got it right."

Leia was stunned by that comment. She looked at her brother imploringly, eyebrows raised, silently compelling him to continue.

But Luke simply got to his feet. "It's late. We should get some sleep."

"We are going to tell her," Leia told him sternly. "Before the next sun cycle is over."

Luke half-nodded, half-shrugged. "If the time is right."

He left his sister to her thoughts, walking quietly down the dark corridors. He was about to turn toward his chambers when he felt a familiar figure hunched on the ledge up ahead. Luke paused, peering through the darkness. Staring out at the empty landscape, at the bright expanse of stars, was Rey.

Luke hesitated for a split second, wondering if he should leave her to her thoughts. She had been troubled, certainly. Chewbacca had told him that Ren had grown quite fond of Han Solo in their brief time together. Luke made up his mind hastily, walking quietly toward Rey.

She glanced over her shoulder at his approach, but otherwise didn't move. Luke leaned against the stone pillar, looking at the silent landscape Rey had been watching. The moons were bright, illuminating the rugged, rocky landscape. In the distance, dark hills peeked out over the sparkling depths of the ocean.

"You are troubled."

Rey adjusted her position slightly, her brow furrowing, but otherwise didn't move. They remained in silence for several minutes, Luke waiting patiently for Rey to speak.

"What is it like? Being a Jedi?"

Luke took a deep breath, thinking. His Jedi training was certainly unusual; Master Yoda trained him in what he considered to be the more important aspects. Even Obi-Wan brushed over a great deal of it. Luke was brought up to defeat Darth Vader, but no such thing was to be done: Vader turned on the Emperor to save his son, redeeming himself in death. After the fall of the Empire, Luke—young and optimistic—had poured over the lore and formed an Academy to replace the ranks of Jedi in the universe. His first pupil had been his nephew, a quiet and thoughtful boy soon stolen away from him.

The Jedi way necessitated that one purge themselves of all emotion. It was a way of peace, stability, and eliminating all attachments in the universe. It allowed absolutely no room for what the Jedi Code considered a path to the Dark side. In the old days, it was well accepted that once one turned away from the Light, there was no return.

"Do you ask for my interpretation, or for the lore?"

Rey shrugged. "Both."

"I have been considered a Jedi Master for thirty years, yet I am still a student," Luke told her quietly. "The ways of the Force can be learned, but never mastered. Its reach is beyond us, flowing through every living thing in the universe. For centuries, practitioners of the Force have attempted to form codes and orders, to establish a way of life surrounding the Force. For the Light, it was the way of the Jedi. The Dark is immeasurably more complicated."

"How could someone embrace that?" Ren asked, her voice full of contempt. It was clear to whom she was referring. "To abandon your family?"

"You are young, and you still have much to learn about the universe," Luke said softly, looking down at Rey. "The Force is not so easily split between Light and Dark. Certainly not good and evil."

"Isn't it?" she asked, turning around to look at him directly. There was anger on her face, a quiet discontent that Luke found all too familiar. For a brief moment, he thought he was almost looking in the face of a boy he had known over twelve years ago. "To choose power over love?"

"Love is neither Light nor Dark," Luke told her. "And it can pull you to one side just as easily as the other." Rey's eyebrows shot up, incredulous.

"All emotions—passionate emotions—are considered part of the Dark," Luke explained. "Passion fuels the Dark side. Anger, fear, hatred—those are the obvious ones. But love is there, too."

Rey stared at him in disbelief.

"My own father was torn between the Light and the Dark," Luke said heavily. "He began as a Jedi Knight, and later turned to the Dark side. It fell upon me to destroy him—but he saved my life, killed the Sith Lord Darth Sidious, and redeemed himself. In the end, he returned to the Light."

Rey took a deep breath and let it out through her nose. "You knew him," she said quietly, her voice hard. She dropped her gaze to her lap, her brows knitting together. "What made him betray his own family?"

It was the question Luke had sought to answer the last twelve years. There were the obvious facts: Ben Solo had equal measure of Light and Dark. Snoke had taken an unusually strong interest in the boy from a young age. Han and Leia loved their son, but they were absent parents. None of it was enough to explain away the years of bitterness and tension before Ben was snatched away. What was the turning point? When did it become too late to save Ben Solo from the Dark side that warred within him?

"I believe only Ben can say," Luke replied heavily, answering his own question as much as Rey's.

Rey scoffed, turning back toward the night sky. "He's a monster. I can't see a thing like that ever coming from the Light."

"Do not be so quick to judge, Rey," Luke warned her.

"Why, because it's not what the Jedi do?"

"Because it's not the complete story," Luke corrected. "You explained it to me yourself: Ben Solo had countless opportunities to kill you, but didn't. By all accounts, you were the political enemy and a saboteur—it should have been an inevitable conclusion. But something held him back."

"That can't mean anything," Rey said harshly. "He's murdered countless people—his own father—"

"I do not deny what he has done," Luke said quietly. The burden of it weighed heavily on his chest. "The Dark is a powerful force that quickly becomes all-consuming. But there's more to Ben Solo than the Darkness."

Rey didn't reply, lost in her own musing. Luke could sense she didn't quite believe him—anger over Han's death was consuming her. He decided to let her be; Rey would come around in her own time.


	3. Second Thoughts

**Invisible Light**

Chapter Three

* * *

Rey rubbed her eyes, trying to orient herself. Part of her still expected to wake to the same metal walls and blinding heat of Jakku.

She splashed the cold water from the fountain onto her face, washing the sleep away. By the time she dressed and made her way to the heart of the temple, the strange dream was only a distant memory. She prepared breakfast for herself and Master Luke, trying to make sense of the enormous text he had given her the day before.

"You're up early," Luke commented, entering their common area. He took the bowl Rey handed him, settling himself down next to her.

"You called this light reading," Rey said, pointing at the huge book that lay open on the ground in front of her. She ran a hand over her head distractedly, frowning.

"Compared to the old ways, I daresay it is."

Rey sighed, trying to make sense of the page she was on. She wasn't illiterate, but her reading skills had been wanting while living in the desert for so long.

Her days spent on the tiny island chain with Master Luke were filled with a sort of crash course in Jedi training. The Force was strong in Rey, but erratic and uncontrolled. Some days she was pleased with her progress, and others felt like day one.

"Do not get discouraged," Luke told her after her fifth immediate loss in dueling. "It takes years of training as a Padawan before advancing to the level of an apprentice. You are bypassing all of that."

Rey pulled herself to her feet, stretching out her shoulders as she paced the temple. Her body ached where she kept hitting the ground, but she ignored it. She didn't dare complain about discomfort while training with Luke Skywalker. "I don't get it," she finally admitted. "I beat Kylo Ren on that horrid weapon of a planet, but I can't last two seconds against you."

Luke gave her a strange look, one Rey couldn't make sense of, as though he knew something significant that she didn't. "Ben was gravely wounded and only intended to subdue you, and you were in tune with the Force," Luke told her in a lighter tone, watching her patiently while she paced. "Do not let one victory boost your ego. But building your physical skills will make tapping into the Force second nature. When you reach the level of a full Jedi, it will be unconsciously done. You will always be attuned to the Force."

Rey, still stretching out her arms, looked over at Luke. She frowned. "Why do you call him that?"

"Because that is his name," Master Luke replied simply.

That wasn't exactly what she had meant. Kylo Ren had said it himself just before murdering Han: Ben Solo was dead. The monster that remained, living in the shell, was pure Darkness. The Ben Solo that Master Luke knew couldn't live in that. He was gone.

"You must learn to let go of your anger toward him," Luke added as an afterthought.

Rey paused, getting the distinct feeling that Luke had somehow sensed her thoughts. "Why?"

"Because it detracts from your focus. You cannot harness the Light side of the Force when your heart and mind are cluttered with hatred."

Rey sighed. "Right. You're right." She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. She made herself remember a time from before she knew Kylo Ren. Her life on Jakku was far from pleasant, but it was less painful than the memory of Han's death, of Finn lying unconscious in the snow. "Let's go again?"

They practiced with wooden swords, much to Rey's silent disappointment. Luke had explained she must master her technique before real weapons were brought into the mix, or risk loss of limb and significant injury.

"You would not be the first Padawan to cut off their own arm," he told her.

Rey couldn't help but look at Luke's bionic right hand as he said that. She adjusted her grip on the hilt and ran at him. Luke deflected her easily, sending her practice weapon flying across the temple floor.

"You have too much forward momentum," he told her, gesturing that Rey should go pick up her sword. "You are coming at me head-on; not only is it too easy to predict, but it is easily avoided. I have only to step to the side and cut you down."

Rey picked up her weapon, out of breath. "I've been doing it wrong this whole time?" she asked, defeated.

"There is a time and place for a thrust," Luke told her. "But against an enemy of the Dark side, you will want to be less predictable. Follow my movements—try to anticipate which direction I will swing next, and counter it. There is no rush to defeating your enemy; often a drawn-out duel will weaken your opponent much more efficiently."

"Right," Rey replied, nodding her understanding. She gripped her sword in her hand.

This time Luke instigated, coming in with a few easy swings, which Rey parried.

"Mind your feet," Luke warned her. "Don't cross them. And keep your knees bent, otherwise—"

The sword suddenly made contact with the back of her legs, swiping them out from underneath her. Rey landed hard, the wind knocked out of her. Luke held out a hand, helping her to her feet. "Would you like a break?"

"No!" Rey gasped, hands on her knees for support. "No, I can go again—"

Weeks passed. Leia dropped by on occasion, filling them in on recent events and providing the necessary tools for Rey's training. More than once Leia suggested Luke bring Rey to D'Qar to train, but her brother refused, insisting the power of the old Jedi temple strengthened his resolve.

"I cannot guarantee that I would be an adequate teacher surrounded by so much chaos after twelve years of meditation," he had said evasively.

Chewie, R2, and C-3PO often accompanied Leia on her journeys. With no real use for the Millennium Falcon any longer, Chewie had offered his services to Leia and the Resistance, often running black market supplies between planets. The First Order had imposed strict trade regulations on most of the neutral territories. When Chewie wasn't available, Poe or another Resistance pilot flew with General Leia. Each time she came, Rey couldn't help but hope Finn would be with her, but his recovery was far from over.

Rey's experience with a bow staff was similar and yet different to wielding a lightsaber, which was much more like a sword. After mastering the basics, Luke had asked Leia to bring a training lightsaber, which was only capable of numbing, rather than maiming. It was still hot to the touch, and Rey had to mind where her blade was at all times, having singed her clothes one too many times. She was excellent at parrying, but her attacks were weak and predictable. Master Luke blocked them with such ease that Rey couldn't help but feel like a child playing pretend in his presence. She was determined, however, and relied on Luke's praise to keep herself moving forward.

The lore was overwhelming. She was making slow but steady progress through the _Jedi Code,_ but often had to have Luke explain it anyways over their rest periods. There were laws regulating the control of emotions, forbidding children, marriage, and even basic attachments to others. Above all else, the Jedi must be pure—harbingers of the Light, the Jedi had long been considered peacekeepers in the universe. Meditation was a core component of a Jedi Master's lifelong training; he must always be empty of mind, attuned to the Light side of the Force.

Rey thought of Finn and the others, and wondered how she would be able to give them up if she had to one day. She had spent a lifetime alone on Jakku, but her new friends were as vital to her being as food and water.

"Is this really expected?" she asked Luke over their evening meal. "Giving up all attachments in the universe?"

"It is the way of the Jedi, yes," he said, nodding. "And you will not be the first person to wrestle with it."

Rey frowned. "I don't understand—how could something like love not be good?"

"The Light side of the Force and what we consider to be 'good' are not interchangeable," Luke told her. "Just as the Darkness does not always beget evil. The light requires constant reflection and impartiality. Emotions—particularly love—often cloud one's judgment. As peacekeepers in the galaxy, the Jedi must rise above such attachments. Duty before all else. Even love."

Rey dropped her gaze, her mind lost in thought.

"I have been meaning to ask you," Master Luke continued, more seriously this time. "You are still testing your powers, but perhaps you have felt… a shift."

Rey thought for a long moment, frowning. "What do you mean?" she finally asked.

Luke hesitated for a moment. "It will not be something you can explain, but in time you will feel it as surely as you feel the earth beneath your feet. An energy, pulling you toward itself."

"Sometimes I think there's a mirror in my head," she told him. "I have…visions…of things I know I have never seen before, and sometimes I feel as though I am reflecting my own mind back out."

"All beings sensitive to the Force are acutely aware of each other," Luke told her. "Some more strongly than others. For centuries the Light and Dark moved with each other, rising and falling against the other—periods of calm and turbulence. The Sith and the Jedi were particular influences over this ebb and flow of the Force."

"And the shift?"

"It's you," Luke told her quietly. "Another like you—there's been an Awakening. I felt it long before we met."

Rey scooted closer, her face imploring. "Are there others?"

Luke sighed heavily, his pale-eyed gaze drifting off into the night sky. "I believe there will be. A shift in the Force. It grows stronger."

Excitement flared through Rey. "More of us? More people you could train as Jedi?"

Something painful flittered across Luke's face. As he hesitated, Rey's face fell a little. "Perhaps one day," he said sadly.

Rey immediately thought of the fate of his Academy, of how Kylo Ren had betrayed Master Luke and killed all the other students. Anger seethed through her at the memory, hot and sudden. The fury was unfamiliar, but strong. Kylo Ren, who had destroyed countless lives in his quest for power, had to be destroyed. Rey thought of her encounter with him on the snowy First Order base, how she had slashed him again and again until he fell. Hatred bubbled to the surface. He was weak and dying, powerless to stop her—Rey should have killed him while she still had the chance.

Then, as quickly as the rage had come, it flickered. Horrified, Rey recoiled from her own thoughts. She fell back on her haunches, breathing heavily. Though the thoughts were her own, she couldn't help but feel violated. Rey remembered her revulsion at the invading voice in her head, tempting her to end a man's life.

 _Kill him._

Something had come back to life in her at that moment—the Light, staying her hand. Around her, the planet was splitting and a deep canyon had formed. Rey had taken the opportunity to run—to escape from the planet's destruction as well as her own rage, calling her to deliver the final blow. Rey truly had no idea if Kylo Ren had managed to survive. It seemed unlikely. As her heart rate returned to normal and her awareness returned, Rey almost felt guilty. A strange pressure had formed in her chest, nagging at her. Should she have tried to save Kylo Ren? Wasn't leaving him to die the same as killing him herself?

" _Rey_."

Rey snapped back to her senses and looked up. Master Luke was leaning over her, his bionic hand outstretched. Worry was etched in the lines of his face, evident in his sharp blue eyes. Rey hesitated before allowing Master Luke to help her to her feet.

"What is this feeling inside of me?" she whispered, frightened tears forming in her eyes.

"A different side to the Force," Luke told her. "One we must all control. The Dark side."

Rey shook her head, willing it to be untrue. "How? I want _nothing_ to do with it—"

Luke placed his hands on Rey's shoulders. There was something oddly calming about the gesture. "It runs through everyone sensitive to the Force," he explained quietly. "It does not make you evil to feel it, just as the Light does not make one good. Both will course inside of you, and you must learn to control it. That is the responsibility of every Force-user in the galaxy. You are young, and only beginning to stretch your powers—you will feel the temptation for a long time."

Though Luke's words were assuring, Rey was still unnerved. When she retired for bed that night, she couldn't fight the nightmares that invaded her mind. She saw herself pacing around Kylo Ren like a predator. She feasted on the fear in his heart as she stood over him with the death blow held high over her head. A dark voice, deep and ominous, filled her mind.

 _Come to me._

Filled with the power of the Darkness, Rey sought out an invisible master in the gloom.

In the early hours of the morning, Rey awoke with a scream.

* * *

Having slept poorly that night, Kylo Ren waited all afternoon for the Supreme Leader's summons, but none ever came. The anticipation made him restless; if Snoke was going to punish him, Ren wanted to get it over with. It wasn't until well into twilight, when the long sun was finally settling for the night, that Ren felt a familiar voice reverberate through his mind.

 _Come to me._

Ren steeled himself for what was to come. He put away the book he had been reading, reaching for his weapon and making the lone trek to the Supreme Leader's chambers. The hall was heavily shadowed; torches had not yet been lit against the darkness. Snoke sat in his chair at the end, watching Ren approach in silence.

"You have become restless."

Ren sucked in his breath slowly, waiting. No doubt General Hux had reported his misbehavior—toying with Stormtroopers was one thing, but invading the mind of Snoke's favored general was quite another. Yet as Ren waited for the Supreme Leader's inevitable anger, he could not fight the feeling that he had been justified. Why should he endure Hux's taunting when the man clearly held no deference to the power of the Force?

"I have allowed you many freedoms," Snoke continued. His voice was slow and ominous; it was impossible to tell if he was furious. He paused, studying Ren through narrowed eyes. Gnarled, clawlike fingers gripped the edge of his chair. "And yet you push back. I have expected this."

A sense of unease filled the room. Ren tried to keep his mind blank as he waited for the Supreme Leader to continue.

"What you need," Snoke told him, his voice slow and ominous. "is to test your strength. I have a mission for you."

Expecting pain or punishment, Ren frowned. After the disaster involving the map to Skywalker, Ren honestly hadn't anticipated any missions from Snoke for some time. He was better trained now, stronger than ever—but Snoke had a long memory and wasn't known for his forgiveness of failure.

"There is a rumor in the galaxy," he continued. "An uprising on the planet Anthan Prime." His pale eyes watched Ren narrowly, gauging his reaction. He paused, then said more authoritatively, "You know what must be done."

Ren felt his heart grow cold. A dark, rainy battlefield flashed through his mind's eye as resignation settled onto his chest. Hux was the better candidate for genocide—perhaps this was why Snoke gave the task to Ren. Punishment for his behavior with the General. When Ren spoke, his voice was flat and emotionless. "Yes, Supreme Leader."

Snoke let out a heavy breath, letting it grumble in his throat. He stretched his gnarled fingers before curling them tightly against his chair. "I anticipated your reluctance," he said, voice heavy with disappointment. "To ensure your success, I have called upon the other Knights of Ren to accompany you."

Six dark figures emerged from the darkness, equally cloaked and masked. Without moving, Ren turned his gaze to watch their approach. They flanked the space around him, silent and watching. The Knights were a mercenary group of Mandalorians who had defected from the old Republic. Enchanted by the power of the Dark side, the guerilla fighters pledged their allegiance to Supreme Leader Snoke in exchange for the chance to reinstate the old Mandalorian culture of warfare. Ren had been instated as their leader following the gruesome battle on the forest moon, Endor, where he had retrieved Darth Vader's mask.

Slowly Ren allowed his gaze to travel back to Supreme Leader Snoke, who had been studying him. "Second thoughts?" Snoke asked, probing through the periphery of Ren's mind.

"No."

Snoke leaned back in his chair. "Kylo Ren, you will lead this mission. In the name of the First Order, you will personally destroy this uprising of the Resistance and all who come after."

An involuntary pause. "Yes, Supreme Leader."

Something like annoyance stirred in Snoke's demeanor. Ren's unenthusiastic response displeased him. "But first," he said slowly, beckoning toward the Knights. The nearest one stepped forward and planted his heavy feet in front of Ren. Though he could not see his face, Ren knew him as Sorvae. He had been the leader of the Knights before Snoke displaced him with Ren a few years before. Sorvae was particularly violent and ruthless. He did not believe in taking prisoners by matter of principle, preferring instead to seek pride in the destruction of all who stood in his way, armed or not. "You will demonstrate your leadership."

Sorvae reached for the weapon at his hip, a dark-bladed saber that pulsed in the silence. He was dressed in traditional Mandalorian armor, which was notoriously resistant to lightsabers. Sorvae planted his feet, holding his saber at the ready. Ren's dark eyes moved from the Mandalorian's mask to Snoke. "I don't—"

A wave of anger traveled through the Force, smoldering and steady. Ren could feel it as clearly as his own. "Do not defy me, Kylo Ren."

Self-loathing tore through Ren's chest at what he was being asked to do. He had always hated Sorvae, but not to the point of murder. In spite of himself, Ren gave Snoke a withering look before unclasping his own lightsaber. Snoke was testing him for weakness, looking to see just how far the Light had spread in his apprentice. Ren might dislike the means of proving it, but he was ever determined to demonstrate his loyalty and strength to his master. "Very well," he said tightly.

Sorvae's fighting style was aggressive—he charged at Ren with a heavy blow, jabbing his saber forward and forcing Ren to jump back to avoid it. The other Knights retreated to the walls, watching in obedient silence. Ren could feel their eyes on him, waiting to see if he was still worthy of being their leader. Weapons slashed against each other, pulsing under the violent exchange as they moved across the room. Ren felt his reluctance holding him back. His distaste for murder weakened him. He met Sorvae blow for blow, but hesitated to draw upon the Force and end their match.

Sorvae, meanwhile, continued to slash through the air violently, determined to cut Ren down as quickly as possible. Ren blocked each swing, lightsabers clashing and sparking against the other. The Mandalorian moved in a cloud of arrogance; Ren could sense his thoughts without going anywhere near his mind. Sorvae was trained in battle, but he wasn't sensitive to the Force. Did he really believe he could cut Ren down and take his place?

Was Snoke trying to mock him?

Anger quickly flared to blind rage. Ren could feel the Force as clearly as though he were holding it in his hands. He anticipated Sorvae's blows, meeting him twice before knocking his saber clean out of his hand.

There was a pause; Ren twirled his own saber before turning on his heel. He had hoped it would be over, but Sorvae leapt to his feet. Weapon back in hand, he ran at Ren. Before Sorvae's feet had even left the ground, Ren sensed him coming. He waited, feinting, then ducked at the last moment and drove his lightsaber deep into Sorvae's throat. Momentum carried the Knight over Ren's shoulders, and he landed hard on the ground.

He was dead.

Ren straightened up, breathing heavily. He could feel himself shaking from anger. It was coursing through him violently, electric… Ren was becoming more attuned to the Dark side than ever.

"You hesitated."

Snoke's accusation rang clearly through the chamber. Ren extinguished his lightsaber, swallowing hard, and turned to glare at Snoke. Rage and self-loathing were coursing through his veins like poison. His chest rose and fell rapidly with exertion, tugging at the wound at his side. "Murder is a waste."

"You have taken life before," Snoke reminded him.

"In war, not a game," Ren replied, clipping his saber back to his belt. His dark eyes fell upon Sorvae's body in front of him. Blood was pooling around him, staining the stone floor. The other Knights remained in their positions, silently waiting for further instruction.

"A waste?" Snoke asked coldly. "Do you think it wise to tolerate dissent? Shall I send you to Anthan Prime alone, then, so that when you take a life you may consider it self-defense?"

Ren planted his feet, meeting his master's gaze directly. "If you wish it." There was a heavy silence, and Ren felt the familiar violation in his mind, the ruthless probing through his thoughts. Ren set his jaw against the pain and recalled his private meditation, working to empty his mind.

Whatever Snoke was searching for, he seemed contented by the answer. "You are displeased with me," Snoke mused, his ancient voice patronizing. The invisible fingers released Ren's mind. Snoke stood slowly, almost arthritically. "Sorvae Ren coveted your position too much to respect you. You cannot trust a Knight whose respect you do not command."

Ren turned his gaze to look at the fresh body on the floor between them before looking back up at Snoke. A dangerous feeling was bubbling in his chest, a reckless disregard for what he said to Snoke. "Then why not dispose of him yourself?"

Something flickered in Snoke's heavily scarred face. "You have grown rebellious as well." There was a note of quiet danger in his voice. "You are challenging me."

"No," Ren insisted automatically. "I would never defy you, Supreme Leader—"

"But you question me."

Ren didn't have an answer to that. There was no point in lying, the Supreme Leader would see right through it. He set his jaw, letting his gaze drop to somewhere below where Snoke stood, and waited.

"And you grow more powerful," Snoke continued. "Though your rage flares more brightly than ever, you are controlling it—harnessing the Darkness." He walked forward, slowly closing the distance between himself and Ren until they were only inches apart. His eyes were piercing, searching Ren's face for any flicker of hesitation. The dim light set the Supreme Leader's face into heavy shadow, filling the pitted and violent scars with darkness. "Tell me, are you ready?"

Ren met the old man's gaze evenly. He couldn't fight the feeling that he was tottering on the edge of a cliff. "For anything."

Though his voice was hollow, an evil smile twisted on Snoke's face. "When the Light is all but extinguished from the galaxy, you will cut down Luke Skywalker."

Ren's heart was beating furiously against his chest. His head felt light. He thought of the Scavenger, the unnamed girl sensitive to the Force that he had been ordered to bring before Snoke. "And the girl?"

Snoke's grin widened. "I have plans for her."

* * *

They were due to fly out that night. A shuttle would transport the Knights of Ren to the _Finalizer,_ where Ren's own ship would then head toward Anthan Prime, located on the edge of the Outer Territories. The Knights were prepped for battle, having been outfitted with new weapons and advanced armor before arriving to Felucia. They spent the evening feasting in the great hall, accompanied by the senior generals and officers. Ren did not join in the celebration, choosing instead to hand select his gear from the First Order suppliers himself.

His old uniform had been destroyed during his rescue, having been badly burned and cut off his body. There had simply been no sign of his mask. Even his favored lightsaber had been destroyed, little more than a burned hilt and broken crystal. Ren ran his fingers over the protective gear laid out before him: lightweight cloaks that avoided detection, fireproof fabrics, and Mandalorian armor. Per First Order standards it was a wash of black and grey, uniform and intimidating.

"What is the rating of this?" Ren asked, picking up what felt like a stiff wool vest. He pulled it on over his own shoulders, testing the weight. It was surprisingly heavy, stitched with iron thread.

"Guaranteed to stand up against a volley of 50 blaster shots, sir," the supplier informed him. "Each item is tested by hand."

"How about the shot of a bowcaster?" Ren asked idly, removing it again. His old injury gnawed at him as he lifted his arms over his head.

Hesitation. "It should suffice, sir, but I don't recommend it."

"And what has the First Order provided by way of weapons?"

The supplier unlocked a heavy black box, pulling back the lid to reveal a neat row of lightsabers. The hilts were fresh and polished, gleaming in the light. They were different weights and thicknesses, and Ren tested each one carefully. They were of the latest technology, very unlike the ancient design of Ren's previous weapon. All held the red-hued Kyber crystals preferred by the Dark side of days past.

"I have the latest firearms available as well, sir," the supplier added hesitantly.

Ren's dark eyes found his nervous ones. "Do you think I'll need it?" he asked calmly, almost teasingly.

The supplier adjusted his weight uncomfortably, averting his gaze. "Well, that is to say—"

Ren moved further down the table and picked up a compact blaster. In two seconds he took aim at the opposite wall and fired. The supplier jumped as the stone cracked in a cloud of dust. Ren had to admit that there was something satisfying about firing a blaster, but they were useless with the Force. Ren set it back down heavily, acutely aware of the shock he had given the other man.

"The lightsaber and the Mandalorian armor is all I require," Ren told him, waving disinterestedly at the long row of equipment in front of him.

The supplier hesitated. "I have orders to outfit you with full gear, sir," he said nervously. A thin sheen of sweat had formed on his skin.

Ren bit back his irritation. "And whose orders might those be?"

"The Supreme Leader, sir."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "Surely Snoke didn't ask you personally," he said disdainfully.

"N-no, sir," the supplier stuttered. "The General ordered me to—"

"The General," Ren repeated, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He took another look at the equipment laid out before him. Near the end was a neat pile of First Order-issued gear: weather-resistant base layers, new boots, and a familiar-looking helmet. Ren stepped forward slowly, dark eyes narrowing. The mask gleamed in the light, missing its familiar dents and cracks. "I thought this was destroyed alongside the Base."

The supplier glanced sideways at the helmet before turning straight ahead, attempting to stand at attention. "It was, sir. We received particular orders to craft a replacement according to exact specifications."

Ren ran his fingers over the mask's surface. He couldn't explain why the sight of the helmet turned his stomach. Perhaps it was a reminder of his weakness—a tool behind which a younger and less trained Kylo Ren hid his hesitation. He had grown accustomed to operating bare-faced, and now Snoke was outfitting him with a familiar costume. Did Snoke suspect Ren would be unable to follow orders without a mask?

"Very well," he said quietly, turning on his heel. "If the Supreme Leader wishes it."

With his new gear selected, Ren dismissed the supplier and retired to his personal quarters. Though hours had passed since his meeting with Snoke, Ren couldn't fight the electrical feeling in his veins, the odd sense of foreboding in his stomach.

Kill Luke Skywalker.

After the execution of his father, it was inevitable Snoke would ask this of Ren. He had been grooming him for this task, possibly since he was a child.

 _The Darkness is powerful in you._

Ren pushed the memory away. He wasn't in the mood to allow sentiment to invade his mind, to reflect on the days when all this started. Secretly, Ren often wondered if he had taken the right path, wrought as it was with conflict. But as soon as the unease entered his mind, Ren pushed it out.

It was too late to turn back.

Besides, Snoke had warned him that the path to the Dark side was filled with conflict. Temptation by the Light was ever-present.

 _Leave here with me._

Ren physically cringed against the invasion. He swept his hands through his hair, pressing tightly against his skull as though he could squeeze the pain out. He moved to the window, breathing in the hot humid air in an attempt to clear his mind. Ren focused on his killing of Sorvae, of his new mission to Anthan Prime—this was his opportunity to redeem himself in the Supreme Leader's eyes, to erase the embarrassment of his defeat by the scavenger girl.

He was stronger now, trained and well-equipped. Anthan Prime would crumble before the First Order and the Knights of Ren wouldn't dare question their loyalty. But instead of giving him power, this knowledge only tore at the holes inside of him.

The Light was getting stronger. It would take all of Ren's resolve to keep it out.


	4. Anthan Prime

**Invisible Light**

Chapter Four

* * *

Nomi ran a hand over her jaw. She curled her toes tightly in her well-worn boots. Anxiety was coursing through her, unfamiliar and unwelcome. Was it too late to turn back? She had impulsively agreed to meet with the General of the Resistance movement, though now she wasn't sure if that impulse was based on instinct or stupidity.

"We have a group established on Anthan Prime," General Organa was saying, leaning forward over her cluttered desk to hand a folder to Nomi. Her once lovely face was serious with age, shadowed from years of war. Nomi had almost changed her mind about the meeting; the dangers aside, Nomi wasn't sure she wanted to face General Organa after the sudden death of Han Solo. "Anthan Prime remains neutral, so to speak—the half dozen or so governments constantly war with one another but have no official alliance. However, both First Order and Republic ships frequent the planet, so you will have to be careful. The plan is very simple: you will bring technology and vital equipment for ships from Anthan Prime under the guise of trading with political groups supporting Lothal. Lothal leans toward First Order sympathies, so you should be in the clear."

"So I take it we're stealing the equipment from Anthan Prime?" Nomi asked, skimming through the documents the General handed her. She would have to memorize its contents and burn them before leaving D'Qar.

The General fixed Nomi with a very serious expression, her brown eyes penetrating. "If at any time you feel that this is not worth the risk—"

Nomi waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not a coward—"

"No one is implying any such thing," General Organa said. "But this is an enormous risk. I am not blind to the dangers placed upon individuals who choose to support the Resistance."

Nomi leaned back in her chair, biting the inside of her lip. "So how does the Republic feel about the Resistance? Have they agreed to help you? After the First Order blew up Hosnian Prime?"

The older woman sighed heavily. Clearly the issue was far too complicated for their brief meeting. "The New Republic is restricted by its obligations to neutral territories—despite what happened to Hosnian Prime, they are reluctant to declare war—"

" _What?"_

"No one in the Capital wants another galactic war, not so quickly after the fall of the Empire," the General said heavily, shaking her head. "They are attempting diplomacy—"

Nomi's brows knit together. "They _blew up_ an entire system," she said with disgust. "The First Order's declared war on everyone—"

The General sighed again, fixing Nomi with a wary expression. "While your ship is officially neutral, you're accepting that you will be branded a terrorist sympathizer should the First Order even suspect that you are assisting the Resistance. While we will do our best to protect you, we cannot guarantee anything."

Nomi exchanged a look with Cal, who had been sitting silently throughout the whole meeting. It wasn't too late to turn back, to leave D'Qar and take advantage of the black market flourishing in the Outer Rim. Poe might be an old friend, but Nomi was loyal to no one but her crew. Even Han Solo had avoided the fight for over ten years. "What do you think?" she asked her First Mate.

Cal fixed her a knowing look. The crew had decided immediately to pledge loyalty to Nomi Sisk, determined to follow wherever she may lead them.

"I'm telling you, and I'll tell the others," Nomi said carefully, unblinking. "If you want out at any time—"

"The crew trusts you, Nomi."

Nomi sighed. Sometimes she wished they didn't. A little resistance might help her determine if she was making the right choice. She turned back to the General, who was waiting patiently. "All right," she said, unable to fight the feeling that she was signing her own death warrant. "What do you need?"

"Advanced fuel cells," the General replied. "Preferably compatible with X-wing class fighters, but we will take what we can get. Canons, rockets, blasters—computer systems to run the technology. Shields."

Nomi took a steadying breath, her eyebrows rising. "Right. The basics. Do you want some black market Bacta while I'm out?"

"If you can acquire the substance, certainly," the General replied seriously. "The Republic hasn't seen pure Bacta since the _coup d'état_ in Lothal."

"Well, that shit's worth like five thousand an ounce, but sure—if I happen across any Bacta I'll pick some up." Nomi ran a hand over her face tiredly. "I'll need an advance to get these things," she said more seriously. "Fuel cells I can find, but rockets and launchers are going to be trickier—buying them _and_ hiding them."

"Of course," General Organa replied seriously. "Whatever you need."

"And we'll need all the right, er, paperwork," Nomi continued. "Trade permits and the like. Or if the Resistance has some official Seal in case I'm trying to buy off someone who isn't afraid of the First Order."

"Already done," the General said, reaching among the piles of documents on her desk for a simple leather bi-fold, very similar to the one Nomi held in her coat pocket. "I don't recommend carrying it in the open—we don't know if the First Order will recognize it for what it is. Our reports indicate the Outer Rim and the Neutral Territories are being required to use a uniform First Order stamp for all their trading."

Nomi thought of her encounter with the First Order on Florrum. "Yeah, I know—I ran into them just last week."

"Our reconnaissance ships tell us that there is a large embargo of weapons near the Tupamaros Desert on Anthan Prime," General Organa continued. "They are politically unstable, and I urge you to use the utmost caution."

Nomi had been to Antham Prime countless times in the past. In fact, years ago, it was on Anthan Prime that Nomi first met Han Solo. There were half a dozen different governments on its surface, each attempting to overpower the other. Acquiring weapons would be tricky—it might be easier to just steal them. Nomi was quite certain Han Solo had actually done just that during the Clone Wars.

"Finally, I must tell you that you are requested to do anything necessary to keep your cover," she added. "There aren't too many clean ships willing to operate with the Resistance. If you have to drop a shipment or sell it to someone else in a pressured moment—"

"It's fine, I've got it," Nomi said quickly, straightening up in her chair.

"Your role is more important than any object you can bring to D'Qar," the General said seriously.

Nomi took a deep breath, getting to her feet. She hesitated by General Organa's desk, fiddling with the envelope in her hands. " _Rogue One_ is a business partner of the Resistance. Not a member."

"Of course."

Nomi nodded once. Cal stood to follow her out of the office. They were halfway out the door when Nomi hesitated. She half-turned to face the General, but found she couldn't look at her face as she spoke. "I'm sorry about Han Solo."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Thank you, Nomi," came the General's quiet voice.

Nomi cleared her throat and swept from the room. The office doors slid shut behind her. Cal was waiting in the corridor, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face.

"We're so fucked," Nomi told him without preamble.

A thoughtful look crossed Cal's face. "Are we?"

"Remind me again why I thought we should do this," Nomi told him, leading the way down the corridor.

"Because the First Order is a fascist, corrupt government determined to take over the galaxy?" Cal offered.

"Yeah…"

"And you think Hux is an asshole."

"This is true."

"But mostly it's because you know this is the right thing to do," Cal added when they reached the exit toward the hangar bay.

"Smugglers don't have hearts, Cal," Nomi reminded him, all traces of amusement gone from her voice. The hangar bay was swarming with Resistance fighters working on repairing their heavily-damaged fleet, replacing what weapons they could. They mostly ignored Nomi and Cal as they passed, heading for their own ship on the far side.

"Yes, but even your idol Han Solo fought with the Rebellion thirty years ago," Cal said.

Nomi didn't reply to that. She hadn't seen Han in several years, couldn't even say that she necessarily liked him, but she couldn't help but feel that the galaxy felt a little empty without him. Nomi had always imagined the old man would go down in some back-alley deal gone wrong, swindling one too many people. The thought of him murdered by the First Order sat heavily on her chest.

They had reached their ship, the exterior of which was in pieces. The Resistance had offered its best mechanics to perform a complete work-up to prepare for the long journey to Anthan Prime. Fuel cells were repaired, the electrical re-wired, and rusted water recyclers, oxygen filters, and other vital components scrubbed down.

"We'll leave tomorrow," Nomi told him as they watched the mechanics pull steel plates off the outside shell of the ship. The whine of the hydraulic drill was deafening. "Should we give the crew leave for the night?"

"Only if you want them all half-drunk at take-off tomorrow."

"Of course I do," Nomi replied idly. "If they were sober, they might change their minds. Besides, you and I have to sit in on the General's briefing later—they'll be bored to tears if we make them sit around and prep the ship."

Cal shot her a serious look. "You know that _you_ can change your mind at any time," he said between the whine of the hydraulic drill. "The crew won't think any less of you."

Nomi glared around the Resistance airfield, squinting in the midday sun. In truth, she really had no idea why she had agreed to smuggle for the Resistance. Sure, anger had spurred her to contact Poe Dameron, but what had driven her this far? It wasn't a sense of duty or any moral obligation—as far as Nomi was concerned, the whole concept of government—Republic or Empire—was a joke. If Nomi was superstitious, she might think some kind of demented spirit had taken over her mind. It was the only way Nomi knew how to describe it: a pull in the universe, beyond control or understanding.

Nomi turned to look at Cal, to see he was watching her patiently.

"Let's get a drink," she said deftly, turning on her heel and heading toward the nearby village. "We're going to need it later."

* * *

Unable to sleep that night, Ren sank deeper into his chair, resting his head in his hand as he stared at the computers in front of him. Around him the corridors were silent and empty, monitored only by the security cameras mounted in the corners. The only Stormtroopers on duty at this hour were posted at the security doors and Command Center, giving the _Finalizer_ an odd sense of emptiness.

Ren ignored the blinking alerts that signaled dozens of unread messages, instead pulling up recent First Order mission reports. They were dull and full of the usual phrases: _rebels eliminated… terror cell identified… resistance base infiltrated…_ Ren skimmed through them, disillusioned, and instead pulled up First Order-sanctioned news reports. There were articles about First Order victories against the rebels, page after page detailing the latest terror plots, uneventful summits with the Republic, and articles explaining the new government policies.

Yet none of it reflected the reality Ren knew. These articles were nonsense. There was hardly any mention of Starkiller Base's destruction, and certainly no information about the magnitude of the attack. It appeared as though the First Order had glossed over the loss entirely, focusing only on inane victories against the rebels. Thousands of lives and millions of credits' worth of equipment had been lost and received little more than a two-sentence paragraph.

Irritated, Ren typed the name of the base into his computer's search function. He had near-full access to First Order information, but nothing of note came up. Ren searched for the planet's old coordinates in his mapping program, and was again met with nothing. It was as though the planet and the program never existed.

Paranoid that he had lost his security clearance, Ren searched for intelligence reports on Anthan Prime. Countless folders popped up, an entire terabyte's worth of information. He pulled up the personnel portal and searched for FN-2187: nothing. No record.

Ren straightened up in his seat, searching through his personal information drive. The folders dedicated to intel about the map to Skywalker were intact, but half the contents missing. As Ren searched deeper and deeper, he realized the missing data had nothing to do with level of security; instead, entire projects were wiped out. It was as though several missions, both major and minor, had never happened. There was no record of the traitor FN-2187 or his escape from the _Finalizer,_ yet the intake log of the Resistance pilot was intact. Most of the information about Skywalker remained, but it was as though Starkiller base had never existed.

Unless there was a serious breach of both protocol and security, someone had ordered a mass data wipe. Only a dozen or so people had that level of authority, and Ren couldn't imagine any of them ordering such a thing unless explicitly instructed to by the Supreme Leader. Had a server gone down?

Ren closed all his tabs and stared at the blank start up screen of his primary monitor. He was doubtlessly too paranoid for his own good; there was likely a security update that hadn't processed his clearance yet. Or perhaps Snoke had just stripped him of it as part of his punishment. Regardless, there was simply no way that Snoke was ordering the First Order to wipe out entire sects of information.

Ren ran his hands over his face tiredly, wincing as his palm rubbed against the fresh scar that had formed across the bridge of his nose and down his cheek, traveling the length of his throat before finally stopping at his shoulder. It was a gruesome mark to be sure, a permanent parting gift from the scavenger girl. Ren tried to block all thoughts of that night from his mind, but he couldn't forget the look of bloodlust in the girl's face when she circled around him like a predator, ready to kill. Part of him wondered why she didn't finish him off, and the other part was coldly impressed that she had been so willing to leave him to die.

Ren pushed himself up from the chair, grimacing as a familiar ache spread across his side. He hesitated for a few seconds, drawing a deep breath and gathering his wits about himself before exiting the Communications Officer's personal office and heading toward his own private quarters. No one dared to spare him a second glance as he passed, though their wild thoughts spoke of their surprise and stupefaction clearly enough. Ren would have ignored the Stormtrooper guards had they stared at him openly; he was too distracted by paranoid thoughts to pay much else any attention.

Back in the privacy of his own quarters, Ren lay awake until flight time, watching distant planets and suns go past the windows of the _Finalizer_ and vaguely wondering which one held Luke Skywalker and the scavenger.

* * *

Anthan Prime was located on the opposite side of the Outer Rim, and the expected journey would take approximately twenty-two hours at hyperspeed. The Knights of Ren received a lengthy briefing on the _Finalizer,_ courtesy of General Hux, regarding their mission to quash the rebellion coursing through two of its six governments. The uranium mines in particular were a source of instability—Resistance cells were cropping up, attempting to take over the mines that supplied to the First Order.

"In no uncertain terms, these Resistance cells must be eliminated," Hux was saying from his place at the head of the long table. The War Room had been closed off all day, cluttered with documents and the remains of catered meals. The Knights of Ren sat languidly in their chairs, paying attention to the official First Order-sanctioned plan as a formality. Once the Upsilon-class Command Shuttle landed on the north side of Anthan Prime, the Knights would take matters into their own hands. "All support to these terrorist groups must be cut off. While intelligence only indicates that the Lesni Army and the Red Brigade in the west have targeted the First Order, your final objective will be to sweep the entire planet—"

"Why not kill them all?" Judro—a broad-shouldered and hot-tempered Mandalorian—asked. He was sitting back languidly in his seat, almost bored by the whole affair of briefing. He had brought out his favored knife an hour before, and was carefully sharpening the blade with a sandstone on the polished table.

"I don't believe your leader would approve of a planet-wide genocide," Hux replied indifferently. His eyes fell onto the long knife, narrowing slightly. The War Room was furnished far too expensively to be used so casually.

Judro's dark eyes turned sideways to Kylo Ren, who was sitting quietly at the far end of the table. Ren ignored him, absently running his thumb against the half-empty glass in front of him. Judro wouldn't dare defy him, not after he had killed Sorvae so easily. The Knight's displeasure was no threat to Ren.

Hux typed something on his holopad and the table's center projector lit up, illuminating a detailed map of Anthan Prime. Hux zoomed in on the north side of the planet, indicating where the Lesni Army stronghold was. "The guerrillas have taken over the uranium mines in the White Mountains here and here," he continued, pointing. "While the old government building has since been taken over, intelligence indicates that the Headquarters is located somewhere deep in the mountains, safe from our reconnaissance ships.

"You are to land in the Old City, approximately two hundred and seventy khelters from the White Mountains," General Hux continued, indicating a new part of the map. "Back up forces will meet you there, and supply you with transportation to the Lesni Army stronghold."

"Why can't we just fly in?" Judro asked bluntly.

Hux fixed him with an irritated look. He did not allow interruptions, but as the Knights of Ren were hired mercenaries and not officially part of the military, Hux would have to tolerate it.

"Their radar will pick up your signal the moment you drop to ten thousand meters and alert the rebel forces to your arrival, thus giving them the opportunity to hide and scatter," Hux answered sharply. "The Old City is filled with smuggling ships flying under false names—far too many to keep track of. You must remain unnoticed until you have infiltrated the base."

Judro turned in his seat to glare at Ren, pausing in the sharpening of his favored weapon. "And why can't we blow up the base?"

Hux's lip curled. "Do I need to explain the magnitude of destruction that would arise from blowing up an established mining operation? The destruction of the cooling centers in the refinery alone would render the White Mountains entirely inhospitable for forty standard solar cycles."

Judro rolled his eyes, unperturbed. His bloodlust seemed to unsettle the others. Ren could feel their irritation, their belief that carpet-bombing the Lesni Army would be the most effective means of quelling the rebellion. "There are other places to get uranium in the galaxy," Judro insisted.

Ren felt his irritation stir, but it was Hux who spoke. "Are you questioning the Supreme Leader's instructions?"

Judro let out a heavy breath. "All right. Fine. We'll do a _covert_ mission," he said, emphasizing the word with disgust.

Ren and Hux caught each other's eye. Hux's pale face was one of annoyance and contempt; it was clear he did not approve of the use of mercenaries. If Hux had been allowed to decide the mission, he would have used trained soldiers, clear tactics, and advanced weaponry. There was no structure in the way the Knights of Ren operated; worse still, they were led by a reckless man who barely managed to control his own witchcraft. It would take a miracle for the Knights of Ren to even attempt to follow the plan, let alone execute it.

Hux's supposedly private assessment amused Ren. Hux scowled at him, obviously aware Ren was able to read his thoughts. The General turned back to the table and typed something on his holopad. The map of Anthan Prime shifted. The western hemisphere was now on display, the location of the Red Brigade lit up.

"Once the Lesni Army is destroyed, your second target is the Red Brigade. While possible that they will remain ignorant of your arrival if you execute the Lesni Army according to plan, we are not relying on it. Assuming they have advance knowledge of your presence, you will be met with open hostility. The Red Brigade is located in the Tupamaros Desert," Hux continued, indicating the stronghold on the map. "With hundreds of khelters of desert in three directions and the Moro Sea in the other, they will not be able to flee. I am sure you will find this portion of the mission more suited to your personal tastes, as secrecy is no longer a concern."

The Knights exchanged wide, knowing grins. Though he considered the destruction of the rebels necessary, Ren did not share in their pleasure. He had been mostly indifferent to bloodshed in war, but something had shifted inside of him.

 _The Light,_ he thought darkly, almost shamefully. He pushed the thought away, as though someone else in the room was capable of reading minds.

"Intelligence suggests that your biggest obstacle will be keeping the Lesni rebels from reaching the Old City in the North," General Hux continued. "The First Order wishes to avoid tensions with the smugglers and pirates—it would be an unfortunate waste of our resources to track those ships down and destroy them if it can be avoided. We have the support of the governments of Lotta and Turin, who have agreed to supply intelligence and ground level support—be mindful of that when you intrude upon their hospitality," he added, giving the Knights warning looks.

"Finally, once your objective in the Tupamaros Desert is complete, you will immediately return to the _Finalizer_ for debriefing _._ Coordinates will be supplied to you at the end of your mission. First Order intelligence will determine if the mission was successful."

There was a stiff silence. Hux turned off the projector and was about to move onto the subject of supplies when Judro spoke up. "And payment?"

"Payment will be supplied upon successful completion of your mission," Hux sniffed. "Per First Order standards. Your leader can supply you with any advance you might require until then."

The Knights fidgeted in their seats, exchanging glances with each other. Ren was notorious for his strict governance of the Knights, preferring to follow the First Order system of structure over the impulsivity of the Mandalorians. He did not tolerate the Knights razing villages, raping women, or killing children. Even going to the local watering holes and drinking the alcohol was forbidden. It was all considered a waste, the mark of a disordered army. More significantly, that kind of violence bred hatred—it would be impossible to establish a singular government in a galaxy filled with discontent among its constituents.

"You have already been issued personal supplies," Hux continued authoritatively. "Water, food, and other rations will be supplied and managed by First Order regiments based on Anthan Prime. You will have access to a larger arsenal of weapons when you reach the Tupamaros Desert, including surface ships, rockets, and radar. The instructions for operating such weaponry can be found in your files—you will, after all, have over twenty hours of spaceflight to endure."

Judro leaned forward to speak again. "Do we _have_ to do the homework, General?"

Pure contempt was rolling off General Hux in waves. Ren raised an eyebrow slightly when he felt Hux contemplate reaching for his blaster and shooting the Knight where he sat. "I don't care what you do, Judro. Kylo Ren is your babysitter."

Judro shot to his feet, his fragile temper flaring. He reached for his knife, but an invisible force stopped him, freezing his arm in place. Judro's eyes fell to his arm before shooting to Ren, full of rage. "Let—me—go!" he hissed through gritted teeth.

Ren met his gaze with equal coldness. "The Supreme Leader will not approve of you making a mess of his War Room."

Ren could feel Judro attempt to fight him off, but the Mandalorian was weak against the Force. Judro's arm twisted sharply, threatening to snap like a twig. The other Knights stilled, exchanging looks but otherwise watching in silence. While just as annoyed with their leader as Judro, they had more sense than to provoke him. Ren applied just a tiny bit more pressure, watching Judro's face contort with the first signs of fear and pain. "That's enough," Ren said coldly, acutely aware of every pair of eyes in the room watching him. "I don't want to hear another word out of you until we reach Anthan Prime."

He let go of Judro roughly. The Mandalorian took several steps back, clutching his arm protectively against his chest and almost tripping over his chair. His eyes were wild with hate, and—more importantly—fear.

There was a ringing silence.

Ren spared a glance at Hux before turning back to his personal holopad. "Continue."

It was a credit to Hux's flawless demeanor that he continued on as though nothing had happened, though he often glanced between Judro and Ren with great dislike.

"You will be equipped with M-87 Blaster rifles with full accessories as your primary weapon, and Fult-class ten-gauge pistols," Hux informed them, pulling up the display file on his holopad projector. While he explained the logistics of weapons and tracking equipment, Ren's mind drifted off. He wanted to get out of the War Room—off the _Finalizer,_ in fact. Ever since his encounter with the Scavenger from Jakku, Ren couldn't fight the feeling of someone listening in on his thoughts at all times, and was left craving real solitude.

Hours later, when General Hux finally excused them all, Ren made quick work of locking himself up in his private quarters. Without bothering to remove the more superfluous elements of his uniform, Ren sank heavily into the chair of his meditation chamber. Darth Vader's warped mask sat in its usual place, undisturbed.

A long time ago, when Ren was still quite young, Vader had appeared to him in a series of day dreams. He had been engaged in a foolish attempt at peaceful meditation when the world around him suddenly went dark. Visions of the old Empire flashed around him—starships, a unified government, and the power of the Force controlling it all. Luke had refused to tell him any stories of Darth Vader beyond his redemption, but suddenly Ren was standing next to him, so close he could hear the automated sound of Vader's respirator echoing through his head. The visions of the past soon turned to the future—the galaxy united once more, knitted together by the continuation of Vader's original vision.

If only Ren could harness the Dark Side.

His true potential.

Ren sank deeper into the chair, letting out a heavy breath. His brow was furrowed, dark eyes troubled. Snoke often encouraged him to meditate upon Vader's mask, hinting that Vader might show himself to Ren once more. Master Luke's old mentors had appeared as ghosts, so was it really so strange to hope that Darth Vader would do the same for Ren?

Ren's eyes closed as he rubbed his forehead, trying to work the headache away. He felt so exhausted. Passionate emotions that once brought him power just wore him down. He should perhaps alert Snoke, but the Supreme Leader hadn't been very happy with him in their last meeting. He didn't want Snoke believing him incapable of carrying out this mission.

Ren turned his gaze back onto Vader's destroyed mask, recalling a promise that seemed so long ago.

 _I will finish what you started._

Ren reflected on everything that had happened since then—the First Order's destruction of Hosnian Prime, the Scavenger, Han Solo's death, the attack on Starkiller Base, his own defeat in the woods… Suddenly the promise felt rather empty.

He was a soldier, more trained and experienced than half the senior officers in the First Order. There was no room to contemplate morality—"goodness" did not save oneself from death, just as evil deeds were seldom punished. The First Order worked on a mission-based military system, with carefully calculated outcomes and risks. There were no jaded philosophers and naïve daydreamers to draw up unrealistic standards of conduct—so why was Ren wrestling with a dreaded sense of guilt?

Why did he feel so…disillusioned?


	5. Warlord

**Invisible Light**

Chapter Five

* * *

It took less than two days to take control of the mines in the north.

The Knights of Ren followed General Hux's orders carefully, disguised as security officers, miners, and scientists traveling to the mountains by the worker's train after reaching the Old City.

The fortress carved into the mountainside was a labyrinth of roads and tunnels. Rebel forces strained to fight back, utilizing improvised explosives and barricading roads, but the Knights crept in through the cracks, silent and invisible. The Army's outdated guns were useless against Mandalorian armor, and their attempts at stopping the advancement of the Knights of Ren was in vain. The knights moved swiftly, a black cloud sweeping through the stronghold, followed soon after by a wave of Stormtroopers.

The rebels soon retreated to the mountains, hoping to find cover. Explosions rocked the mountains as the Lesni Army fired their last rockets and the Knights and barricaded all the exits before filling the tunnels with poisonous gas. The surviving Army was choked out of hiding. Judro in particular enjoyed chasing down rebel fighters attempting to flee, throwing them off the mountainside. Ren did not participate in the massacre; instead his energy was spent searching through the nearby village for hidden sympathizers. The cumulative effort was exhausting; Ren had never attempted to penetrate so many minds at once, and certainly not ones hidden deeply out of sight. And ever-present in the back of his mind was the persistent hum of thousands of voices, the thoughts of every living soul within a thousand meters of Ren, distracting and buzzing, each one demanding to be heard over the other.

Once the Lesni Army was all but eliminated, reinforcements were called in from the Old City. Those deserting and surrendering were rounded up for interrogation. A base camp had been set up as top-level officials arrived. First Order flags hung over every road, checkpoints were erected, and the finest buildings were repurposed for "official operations." The First Order officers gave the Knights a wide berth, but Ren could sense their disdain. The other Knights busied themselves with the usual games: hunting the last of the rebels through the mountains, torturing prisoners for information, and harassing the local villagers for information. When they thought they could get away with it, the Knights preferred to spend their free time forcing the prisoners to fight each other in crudely-erected arenas for half-portions of food and water. Normally Ren would have put a stop to such games, but his mind was focused elsewhere: First Order scouts had discovered a mass grave in one of the valleys, no doubt the work of the Lesni Army.

"General Hux will need to be notified of this immediately," Ren told the Major grimly. He was still dressed in battle uniform, in muddy boots and unkempt hair, and towered over the First Order officer. Ren looked over the ledge toward the badly-filled grave, fighting to control the nausea the sight brought him. Though a thin film of snow covered the worst of the carnage, the stink of decay was overwhelming. The bodies had clearly been rolled off the cliff into a gulley—an indecorous end to the countless First Order soldiers and local defenders who had lost their lives in the rebellion.

The Major had turned so his back was to the grave, unable to look at it for much longer. "The area will need to be closed off—the grave filled—"

"Make the prisoners do it," Ren replied shortly, glancing over his shoulder toward the city. "Let them see what they've done."

Lower-ranking First Order officers marched bands of Lesni prisoners to the gravesite within the hour, arming them with only shovels. The ground was frozen and difficult to penetrate, but the Knights provided enough encouragement to keep the prisoners working. Judro especially seemed to enjoy this new duty, threatening to slit throats any time a prisoner stopped shoveling. Ren left them to it, dealing with reports and giving out orders until the Knights finally had clearance to move on to the Tupamaros Desert.

Ren was hidden away in his quarters—some unknown family's apartment located above a former bakery—preparing final reports to the First Order when General Hux called. Ren looked up from his holopad to the projector on the table, debating if it was worth it to ignore the call. Hux was the last person Ren wanted to speak to, but the General also only ever called if it was important. Resigned, Ren hit the accept button and the holographic form of Hux flickered into life. "It's about time," the General sniffed.

"Did you think taking down an army would be a quick job?" Ren replied sharply, rubbing his shadowed eyes. He hadn't slept since arriving to Anthan Prime. All he saw at night were corpses. "What do you want?" he muttered, rubbing his temple.

"I received your report of the mass grave," Hux replied grimly.

Ren let his head rest on the palm of his hand, eyes shut. His headache was growing exponentially. "And?"

"And it behooves me to tell you that the deceased will need to be identified."

"They're already buried."

"I know that," Hux's voice replied, irritation evident. "So un-bury them and find out. The First Order will need to release official statements to the families of our soldiers."

Ren sighed. "Is that really necessary?"

"I understand your disinclination to appreciate familial ties, Ren, but it remains a First Order practice to bury our dead with dignity, and that includes identifying them. You may have your prisoners perform the task, but I expect it to be done."

"Right," Ren replied shortly, running his hand over his face. His fingers grazed over the scar on his cheek, catching him off guard; Ren kept forgetting it was there. "Is that all you want?" He asked. His head was threatening to split wide open.

"Of course not," Hux snapped. Ren opened his eyes to peer at the hologram, which was far too bright for comfort. Hux was seated in the War Room on the _Finalizer._ His face was annoyed, though he looked almost as tired as Ren felt. "The Supreme Leader has instructed me to supply you with coordinates to the Tupamaros Desert. They'll be in your messages should you dedicate the time to actually read them. You will fly out at approximately zero four-thirty tomorrow. TIE fighters will accompany you and provide a pre-emptive airstrike across the stronghold. The Supreme Leader wants the entire rebel base destroyed."

"How many villages comprise the base?"

"There are three in the desert and one port city that we know of," Hux replied. "The capitol, Lotta, remains our ally. The Supreme Leader was quite clear that the airstrikes will eliminate the villages, and the Knights of Ren are to focus on weeding out the rebels in Lotta."

Something stirred in Ren's chest at that. "We're targeting the villagers?"

"That's what he said," Hux replied coolly. "Or have you grown tired of your role as a warlord already, Ren?"

Ren swatted at the projector, and the Force knocked it sideways, off the table. The hologram of Hux disappeared, leaving Ren in silence. After so much death in such a short time, the thought of slaughtering entire villages was too much to comprehend. Ren had done it once before on his mission to Jakku, but Snoke had justified it by explaining the village was knowingly harboring a criminal. Now it seemed the practice was becoming standard. What kind of empire was built on destruction and bloodshed? How strong was an allegiance based on fear?

Ren sighed heavily; the thought of more death was exhausting. Despite the Supreme Leader's assurance, taking life only seemed to get harder the more Ren did it.

With the mines secure and the Lesni Army destroyed, the Knights of Ren prepared for their departure to the Tupamaros Desert. Ren gave explicit orders for the Knights to memorize their travel plans, to clean and prep their weapons, and have all personal effects packed and ready for transport. The Knights reluctantly obeyed before insisting on a night of celebration in the nearby village of Turin. Fueled by bloodlust, the Knights were particularly rowdy and eager to scour the town for alcohol, gambling, and women. Ren was reluctant to let them go—it was doubtful they could get through the night without instigating a fight—but he needed a night off himself to meditate.

Seeking out the location of the Lesni Army through the Force had been exhausting, and Ren felt as though his energy was completely spent. After ordering a few Lieutenants to keep anyone other than General Hux or the Supreme Leader from interrupting him, Ren retired to his personal quarters. He removed his helmet and layers of armor, stretching out on the end of the simple bed. The equipment was relatively lightweight, but there was something constricting about all of it. In his mind's eye, Ren could only see the hundred corpses lying on the mountainside.

* * *

Nomi and Cal exchanged worried looks.

"Should we turn around?" Cal whispered seriously.

Nomi opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. Her hand was over the hyperdrive, ready to fly the ship back into deep space. She felt her fingers inch toward it when a voice suddenly crackled on the radio receiver again.

"Lotta to _Rogue One,_ you are clear to land in Farragut Port, Bay six. You will submit your paperwork for inspection upon landing."

Nomi let out a shaky breath before picking up the radio. " _Rogue One_ requesting coordinates."

"Ninety-four point eight-three north, one-forty-seven point seven west."

Nomi typed the coordinates into the ship's computers and carefully flew toward the Tupamaros capitol, Lotta, in the desert regions of Anthan Prime. Once they broke through the heavy cloud bank, Nomi and Cal could see huge expanses of desert and deep canyons carved into the planet's surface. In the distance a sea flickered brightly in the sunlight. Nomi flew them carefully over the canyons toward Lotta, which was carved intricately into the desert valley. It had the appearance of having once been a labyrinth of buildings, roads, and airstrips. Now huge black craters were visible from the air, littered around rows and rows of demolished buildings. Nomi was sure someone had bombarded the city with rockets not long ago.

They passed the smoking remnants of what may have been villages—the empty roads were the only clue. With each one they passed, Nomi's heart sank further. There were government landspeeders caravanning through the dusty roads, heading toward Lotta.

There was less destruction on the north side of the capitol. Nomi brought the ship lower, maneuvering it into place outside of a military airstrip, preparing the ship for landing. She exchanged a glance with Cal as if to say, _Here goes nothing._

The ship landed a little too roughly, the lights flickering. Nomi shut off the engines and took down the shields before getting on the radio once more. " _Rogue One_ for inspection." She shut her eyes, clutching the receiver tightly in her fist, waiting.

The bay doors opened and two Lottanese government officials entered, escorted by Stormtroopers. Nomi and Cal exchanged a quick glance—they had not expected to run into the First Order military so soon. The officials looked around the ship with vague interest before the nearest one spoke. "A smuggling ship."

Nomi felt her heart skip a beat. "Trading," she bravely corrected. Talking her way out of complicated situations had never been her forte: her temper flared too easily. "Biological goods."

The officer approached Nomi. He was tall and browned from the sun, dressed in pale linen robes. He stood close enough to Nomi that she could see the sweat beading on his forehead. He looked over her carefully before speaking again. "Papers."

Nomi hastily reached for her First Order stamp in her pocket, keeping her eyes downcast so she wasn't tempted to speak out. The officer examined the official stamp before handing it back to Nomi. He turned sharply to his companions. "First Order seal. They can go."

There was a palpable change in the air. A rush of relief flooded Nomi's head, almost dizzying her.

"Welcome to Lotta," the official added, turning his attention back toward Nomi. He had a smirk playing around his mouth, which made Nomi paranoid that he knew her crew's true intentions. "I suggest you complete your business here rather quickly—there is a disturbance brewing in the desert, and you won't want to get caught up in it." He gave her a dismissive nod before exiting the cockpit.

Nomi didn't dare move until the inspectors left the ship, leaving the bay door open in their wake. Nomi caught Cal's eye again, and she whispered, "I have a bad feeling about this."

Cal stood up, giving Nomi's shoulder a reassuring tap. "We've been through worse. Remember Dagobah?"

In spite of her fear, Nomi snorted. "Yeah, you're right," she agreed.

Half the crew stayed behind to monitor and refuel the ship; the other half accompanied Nomi and Cal to the center of Lotta. While bustling with activity, the locals had a strange air of tension about them. They kept their eyes downcast and moved about their business quickly. The streets were full of curt transactions, and every few blocks were Lottanese government police, watching. Occasionally they passed scenes of civil unrest: buildings with their facades blown out, hastily-repaired craters in the street, and First Order propaganda lining shop windows. Nomi tried not to look at anyone or anything for too long, hoping she and her crew didn't stand out.

There was no one to meet, of course. Resistance intelligence only said that there were weapons near the Moros Sea, not who would be selling them. Nomi and Cal led their small crew into the busiest pub they could find, settling themselves throughout the room. The mechanic, Ulas, took the others toward the center bar where other travelers were gambling. Cal and Nomi took seats on the perimeter of the building. They would need to find a local, a loud-mouth talker, and the surest way to locate one was to go where alcohol flowed freely and the need to impress was omnipresent.

Cal bought himself and Nomi a drink and they settled in, carefully listening to the conversations around them. They scanned the bar for anyone who looked out of place—the ones who sat quietly were typically the people selling. Once or twice Cal refilled their drinks, hovering at the head of the bar. It was during this moment that a man leaned across the table in Nomi's direction.

"You look out of place," he commented gruffly in perfect Bocce.

Nomi felt her face harden. "It's a bar," she said flippantly, replying in the same language. "And I'm drinking."

The man chuckled. He was broad and rough-looking, with heavily-lidded eyes, leathery skin, and a graying beard. His shirt sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, exposing scarred and dirty arms. There was something undoubtedly wild about his appearance. "Where's your keeper? We don't often see women around here."

"You mean my gun?" Nomi asked sharply. She glanced up at the bar—Cal was still waiting, glancing around at the inebriated tenants around him. Listening.

"Just a friendly suggestion," the man continued, ignoring Nomi's dismissal entirely. He was leaning across the table, and a whiff of Ebla floated off him like a stink. "Avoid the villages in the desert—First Order's cracking down on the rebellion there."

"Right," Nomi replied, careful to keep her face indifferent. She could feel the stranger watching her reaction.

"What's your business in Lotta?"

Cal had arrived. Nomi gratefully took the drink he handed her. She deftly ignored the drunk man at the next table over. Cal glanced at him, giving Nomi a silent, questioning look.

"Just between you and me," the stranger added in an undertone. He wasn't looking at Nomi; instead his watery eyes traveled from one dim corner to another. "Secret Police are watching everyone in this bar—they've sold their souls to the First Order—"

Nomi turned to glare at him directly. She swallowed a sip of her drink hard, her eyes narrowing. "Brave words to say to a stranger. How do you know I'm not a First Order sympathizer myself?"

The man laughed, a deep, almost gurgling sound. He wiped his bearded face, looking around the bar once more. "You stand out like a tree on Florrum. If you're looking for a seller, I wouldn't recommend searching here."

Nomi glanced at Cal before letting her gaze drift across the bar. She examined the room more carefully than she had originally. Sure enough there were dark figures nestled in the nooks and crannies of the bar, watching silently. An officer stood by at the door, and another was seated at the bar. The place was filled with Lotta's Secret Police. Nomi swore under her breath, but they couldn't leave now. Their sudden departure would doubtlessly attract attention, and that was the last thing Nomi wanted.

She and Cal finished their drinks in mutual silence before collecting the rest of their crew. Nomi couldn't fight the feeling that there were secret eyes on her back at all times. The streets outside were much quieter in the darkness. The absence of the desert sun dropped the air temperature exponentially, sending a chill through their bones. Nomi led the crew toward their ship, careful not to say a single word aloud until they were in the safety of their cargo bay.

"We chose a right time to come," Ulas said almost as soon as the heavy doors locked. They made their way toward the ship's only common space, where the rest of the crew was relaxing, waiting for the evening's report. Nomi sank into her usual chair, rubbing at the headache that was forming behind her eyes. "You hear about the rebellion in the desert? There's First Order all over it!"

"It'll take a miracle to get that cargo without the Order finding out."

"So—what? Are we turning around?"

"Well, have you got any idea how to get to a stockpile of weapons located in the middle of a rebellion?"

"There's got to be dealers in the city," Nomi spoke up, her fingers absently working at the tension in her temple. "Where there's civil war, there's always a black market—"

"What if we intercept a shipment?" Cal suggested. "Lotta's far away from the ports—they'll need supplies and goods coming in from somewhere. Skiffs or Landspeeders—there's got to be a trade route."

"And how do we do that without getting caught?" Nomi asked doubtfully.

"We'll need to watch their routes—patterns, the type of vehicles used, which government is driving them," Cal said slowly. "If we can mimic their trade vehicles, they may not notice we stole their shipment."

"You want to go right in the middle of First Order territory?" Ulas asked doubtfully. "I thought we were trying to _avoid_ them. You saw it when we flew in—half the damn desert's been blown up."

"They'll be watching the capitol like hawks," Cal replied, shaking his head. "But we have a much better chance of switching out the cargo halfway between Lotta and the villages. We can scan the desert, see if the vehicles go through a mountain pass or something else with coverage—we'll cause a diversion and switch out the cargo."

Nomi looked around at the faces of her crew. Doubt colored their features, but there was something about the long silence that told Nomi her crew might just go for the plan.

"Infiltrating will be tricky," she said. "Like Cal said, we'll need to watch them carefully—what their cargo looks like, what their schedule is. If we can copy all of it, we'll steal the real supply and send the First Order off with a fake one, and be gone before they know it."

The crew traded glances, their faces splitting into hesitant grins.

"We'll need volunteers to stake out the roads," Nomi continued.

"I'll do it," Cal replied immediately.

"No way," Nomi told him. "Neither of us can go—the First Order's seen our faces—we'll have to come up with some kind of fake trading scheme to keep their eyes on us. Staking out the desert's got to be someone they haven't seen." Nomi glanced around her crew. She didn't like the idea of picking someone on the likely chance they were captured, but if she was recognized, it was all over. "Tom and Kiran, you two will go. Follow the roads and figure out their schedule. We'll bring you anything you need."

Tom ran a hand through his hair, exchanging a glance with Kiran, who half-shrugged his agreement. "Guess we're the lucky winners."

"The rest of you are going to work out how to get a vehicle and a fake cargo load," Nomi continued. "Ulas, I'm leaving you in charge of that. As soon as Tom and Kiran have the schedule, the first thing we do is intercept—we can't spend another day on this fucking planet that we don't need to. Cal and I will stay in Lotta and try to keep the First Order distracted."

"You should probably make a real trade," Ulas suggested. "Just in case any of us are caught."

"Yeah," Nomi said slowly. "But if the First Order finds us, it might not matter much."

* * *

The _Upsilon-_ class Command Shuttle was preceded in flight by a dozen TIE fighters. Over a hundred rockets were dropped in the Tupamaros desert, laying waste to any sign that once-thriving villages had existed at all. Black scorch marks and smoking rubble was visible for miles. While the Command Shuttle headed for the capitol of Lotta, the TIE fighters laid chase to any landspeeders attempting to flee.

Their point of contact in Lotta was Lieutenant Bora Cardal, a Lottanese military officer who doubled as the ambassador to the First Order on Anthan Prime. Ren gave the Knights orders to mind themselves while they followed their escort through the labyrinthine roads to the official Headquarters. The air was blisteringly hot, and the direct sunlight threatened to roast them where they stood. Ren's armor felt like a lead weight against his skin. He had grown accustomed to the cold temperatures of the First Order's base planets, and was decidedly unprepared for this climate shock. He could feel the thoughts of the other Knights and sensed they were just as miserable in the desert as he was.

The alabaster building they entered brought shade, but very minimal relief from the heat outside. They were led to an antechamber, a long, towering room with tiled floors and intricately-painted ceilings. There was no furniture here—instead the delicate floor sunk in, and the steps were lined with velvet cushions. Lieutenant Cardal, who had remained silent thus far, barked orders to a nearby guard to supply them with food and water.

Ren sank onto a nearby step, pulling off his helmet and gloves, running a hand through his damp hair. It was tempting to strip away the rest of his layers, but Ren was consciously aware of the possibility of sniper fire. The other Knights followed suit, stretching languidly on the cushions and setting their helmets and weapons on the floor nearby. They all wore the same sleepy expressions, their energy zapped by the oppressive heat.

A side door to the antechamber opened, and two youths—barely in their teens—entered. They were weighed down with pitchers of cold water and platters food. The Lieutenant paid them no mind as they made their way around the room hesitantly. The Knights were quick to grab their fill, teasing the two slaves in the process. Ren himself took only water. The boy hesitated when he passed Ren, his eyes looking up into Ren's face in spite of himself.

"Boy!"

The youth jumped, nearly dropping the water pitcher. He dropped his gaze to his feet, hurrying along the room to finish his duties before hurrying from the room. Ren watched them go before he turned his attention back to the Lieutenant in front of him.

"Early reports indicate the Red Army has been destroyed by our rockets," she said in flawless Basic, speaking matter-of-factly before taking a long drink of water. She was dressed in the local government uniform, but the fabric was heavily faded, bleached from the sun. "The three villages—Po, Susa, and Lancia—comprise the rebel stronghold for the Red Army guerilla fighters. Or they did, until this afternoon," she added with a wry smile. The Knights exchanged dark grins. "Our intelligence indicates that there are a number of sleeper cells here in Lotta—spies, sympathizers, back up fighters. General Hux has approved the use of force to eliminate the Red Army completely. The government of Lotta is assisting with this operation. The locals are being required to register as we speak—anyone tied to known rebels has been arrested. Per General Hux, the Knights will supervise this investigation and oversee the elimination of the rebels."

Ren's dark eyes narrowed at that. His own displeasure was a stark difference from the electric anticipation of the Knights. "An execution squad."

The Lieutenant, though far too low-ranking to challenge Ren, remained impassive. "Sir, General Hux informs me that your fighters are particularly…skilled in the area of interrogation."

Judro laughed in cold amusement at that.

"As comforting as it is to hear the General's praise, he does not command me," Ren bit back, shooting Judro a cold look.

"The Supreme Leader has signed off on this mission, sir," the Lieutenant continued.

Frustration stirred in the pit of Ren's stomach, and he knew his emotion showed on his face. The Knights were watching him out of the corners of their eyes, waiting for his reaction. Even the Lieutenant, stiff and formal, was watching him carefully.

"We have set up quarters for you here in Lotta," Lieutenant Cardal continued after a moment. "We have a company of soldiers available at your discretion, ready to receive orders. Should you require anything, I would be happy to oblige. Lotta is forever grateful to the First Order."

But Ren wasn't listening. A dangerous anger was swirling in the pit of his stomach, deep and unfettered. Despite their notorious reputation, the Knights of Ren were not common executioners.

"Do you have a radio or telecommunicator?" Ren asked, interrupting the Lieutenant.

She fell silent mid-sentence, turning to look at him. Surprise skirted across her tanned face before she regained her decorum. "We have a complete communications center with a projector," she said. "I would be happy to send someone to escort you if you wish to transmit a message, but unfortunately our systems won't be back online until later this evening. A scheduled black-out," she added as way of explanation.

"In the middle of the day?" Ren asked, frowning.

"We found the use of a total blackout useful in preventing the enemy villages from communicating with each other during the air raid," she said without much interest. "The Red Army will have no way to reassemble its forces or call for aid. Lotta has tolerated the rebellion long enough."

After their briefing, the Knights were escorted to their temporary quarters in the enormous base. Ren was grateful for the brief reprieve from the others. Lieutenant Cardal sent her slaves to clean and repair their equipment, draw baths, and otherwise oversee any of their needs for the evening. Ren declined all of it, instead using the time to refresh his training. He was quicker than ever, more agile in his movements even in spite of his old injuries. Ren could have spent time meditating, attempting to heal his body, but the constant reminder of the aching wound fueled his anger.

Finally darkness fell, bringing with it a sharp relief from the heat. Ren wiped the sweat from his brow, stretching his shoulders as the cool breeze bit at his exposed skin. He could sense footsteps coming long before he actually heard them.

The slave—twelve or thirteen by the looks of him—hovered near the courtyard where Ren had been training. Ren pulled his tunic back on, clasping his lightsaber securely to his hip. Silently he walked over to the wide-eyed boy, sensing the flicker of the Force in him once more.

"Supper is ready in your quarters, sir," the boy told him, his shoulders unnaturally stiff.

"What's your name?" Ren asked quietly.

The boy fidgeted, his eyes cast downward. Ren could feel his fear, hidden under a thin layer of youthful defiance. The boy's thoughts were loud, an internal struggle as he considered answering. There was a moment's hesitation, then—

Before either of them could speak, a Lottanese official appeared in the empty veranda. The boy scampered off like a cat, ducking into the safety of a nearby corridor. "The blackout, sir," the official said. Ren could sense the man's curiosity, his silent wondering at what the Leader of the Knights of Ren could possibly want with a slave. As a testament to his training, the officer's face didn't betray his secret thoughts. "It's over. I will take you to the Communications Center immediately."

Several hours ago Ren's anger had been fresh and overwhelming. Having been forced to wait all afternoon, it had abated into a quiet resentment. Ren almost reconsidered speaking with Snoke, but he knew he would never be able to bring himself to carry through on the Supreme Leader's mission.

Ren followed the officer down torch-lit corridors, a familiar chill creeping through his bones. They walked deeper into the fortress, into shadowed corridors that led underground. The officer led Ren through a series of rooms equipped with outdated computers and sensors. A maze of wires crossed the walls and floor in all directions, giving Ren the impression that they had been installed in haste.

The Lottanese officer spoke with a man sitting by the control panel for a moment before straightening. "The Supreme Leader's online, sir. Just through this room," he said, gesturing to a heavy doorway.

Ren moved past the communications panel into the dark chamber, letting the heavy door shut behind him. The room was a cavernous globe, dimly lit by beams of moonlight that shone through narrow slits in the high ceiling. Ren's slow footsteps echoed loudly. There was a familiar static, and the holographic form of Snoke shimmered into life in front of him.

"I have not been expecting a call from you so soon," Snoke told him, the holograph flickering.

"I came to Lotta to end the rebellion," Ren began without preamble. His anger had been quietly bubbling, but seeing Snoke sent him over the edge. "Not to slaughter half the population—"

Snoke's curiosity was visibly replaced by irritation. "The rebellion must be stopped at the root."

"I'm not doing this mission," Ren bit back, his anger guiding him dangerously close to mutiny. "And though they're happy to do so, neither are the Knights—and I command them. I already did what you asked of me in Turin, but I won't be responsible for wiping out another government—these people are loyal to the First Order—"

"Lotta is but one government on a single planet," Snoke said. "And the First Order commands dozens of systems—you must remember the full scale of our operation."

"We can't establish stability in the galaxy if we take shortcuts and destroy entire governments out of convenience," Ren replied mutinously. "We have to offer them something better than the Republic—"

Snoke leaned back quietly in his chair. The hologram flickered. "I see," he said quietly, his ancient voice rumbling in his throat. "Your power has made you blind—"

"I'm not an executioner!" Ren shouted. "I already know how to take a life—I don't need the same lesson over and over again—"

"You think you know better than I?" Snoke hissed. Though they were talking through a projector, Ren took a half-step back. "You have known the Dark side for perhaps fifteen years—I have lived it for a thousand—"

Ren hesitated. "That's not what I'm saying—"

"You are telling me that my instructions are wrong—clearly you believe you understand better than I," Snoke said waspishly. "My instructions for you go beyond politics and government—even the First Order. I do not expect you to understand my teachings, but I do expect you to obey," he hissed. "Talent alone is not enough to make a Master of the Dark."

"Then why am I here?" Ren demanded, gesturing at the empty space around him.

"You have no confidence in your abilities," Snoke said firmly. "I see your doubt without going anywhere near your mind—and if you doubt, you risk falling to the Light—"

"I am immune to the Light," Ren insisted, repeating a familiar mantra.

"Then carry out this mission."

"No."

Someone else had taken over his vocal chords. Ren heard his own voice, but had no conscious knowledge of speaking.

There was a pregnant silence in which Ren and Snoke stared at one another, both surprised by the answer.

"No?" Snoke repeated, his voice wavering on the precipice of danger.

"When you asked me to turn on my uncle, it was because the Jedi had to be eliminated," Ren interrupted. His voice was dangerously matched in anger to Snoke's. "And I didn't question it. But this makes no sense—there is no reason to kill these people—"

" _Kylo Ren_."

Ren's voice faltered at the dangerous tone in the Supreme Leader's speech. His mutinous anger was quickly wavering, creeping into a familiar sense of fear. He stared at Snoke's holographic form, a crease between his dark eyes. Ren could feel his heart beating violently against his chest. The injury to his side was beginning to throb.

"Do as I say," Snoke hissed. Even in holographic form, Ren had never seen the Supreme Leader so angry. "A village of traitors and terrorists is no use to me—"

Ren's frown deepened. "But—"

"Do as I say!" Snoke roared, his voice echoing off the walls of the room. Snoke leaned back into his chair, breathing heavily. His gnarled fist clenched and unclenched. There was a tense moment of silence, then Snoke continued, "Do not call upon me until you've finished your objective." With that, the hologram flickered and died, leaving Ren standing in silence alone.

Ren's lungs seemed to stop working. His brain was buzzing. He stood there for a long moment, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. Ren knew that there would be hell to pay for questioning Snoke so bluntly, but something more pressing was swimming at the forefront of his mind. Ren stood in the silent room for a long moment, not quite able to bring himself to leave.

In the past, Ren was able to overcome the pull of the Light inside of him through Snoke's guidance and sheer force of will. But now the desire to fight it had gone. He trusted Snoke less and less with each day. Even though the Supreme Leader was a heavy presence in his mind, Ren found himself shutting his teacher out more frequently. Suspicion had settled into the holes where unwavering loyalty had once been.

Ren swept from the room angrily, ignoring everyone he passed. His gait was too quick for his escort to follow. Though Ren was in the middle of a maze of tunnels, the Force guided him back to the surface. Ren moved through the corridors agitatedly, a blinding headache threatening to split him in two. The halls were flooded with moonlight, and Ren's breath came out in silvery clouds in the frigid night air. The torches behind him cast long shadows, and when Ren caught a glimpse of his own, he couldn't help but think it resembled some kind of predator.


	6. Conflict Zone

**Invisible Light**

Chapter Six

* * *

General Organa shut off the projector, leaning back in her chair heavily. Her hand shook as she brought it to her temple, trying in vain to work out the headache that had formed there.

"General?"

"They won't help us," she replied flatly. She let her hand fall, her gaze fixed on the silent projector where the leader of the Senate had appeared just moments before.

Poe Dameron stepped forward hesitantly. The heavy doors to General Organa's office closed behind him.

The General sighed. "Between the civil war in places like Anthan Prime and Rodia, the Republic doesn't want to put pressure on the Neutral Territories. The First Order's already choking the inter-galactic trade—their economies are on the verge of collapse without funding an army and weapons. They won't support a war, and the Republic won't declare it without the vote."

Poe leaned against the projector, silent. The General looked up at him, suddenly feeling more tired than she could remember ever being. "The Resistance is on its own, Poe."

He nodded solemnly, his warm eyes flickering up to meet her own. "We're with you, General. Always."

She gave him a weak smile. "Thank you, Poe."

"What about Rey? And Luke Skywalker?" he asked tentatively. "I mean…" he hesitated, looking for the right words. "They're Jedi…can't they train more?"

"Luke is against it."

"But he's training Rey."

General Organa sighed, resting her chin in her hand. Suddenly the weight of her world seemed too heavy. She had undoubtedly sacrificed everything for her vision, pushing aside her friends, neglecting her once-husband and son, and accumulating enemies who ought to have been allies along the way. She had allowed herself to become the adversary, the undesirable voice in the Senate and the hard-headed leader of the Resistance, all to establish peace in the galaxy. Had it been worth it, these last thirty years? She was willing to give everything of herself, but was it her place to ask those around her to do the same? Was it fair to have neglected her only son and to have kept secrets from Han?

Perhaps on a different path in a different life they would still be here.

General Organa knew the heavy weight of sacrifice, and even took pride in it. It was regret that lingered on her mind, heavy and persistent. It ate away at her resolve, making it harder and harder to wade through the unknown. There was no guarantee the Resistance would be successful, that the Republic wouldn't just cave and ally itself with the First Order, leaving her tiny band of resistance fighters alone in the galaxy. Suddenly she would become the enemy, the leader of the terrorist organization that refused to bend toward stability in the galaxy because it wasn't _her_ vision. The Old Republic had existed once—perhaps it wasn't meant to return.

Had she strayed so far down her path that she lost sight of the bigger picture? Was Ben right about the pursuit of peace being a privileged and idealistic notion, the concern of philosophers and academics who considered themselves too evolved for the realities of the universe? He had believed their condescension and sterile ethics disconnected them from reality, that there was no point in demanding an undefinable concept hold the galaxy together.

Leia had lost her reputation, her confidence, and everyone she had ever loved. Only pure stubbornness drove her toward a caricature of her vision, a skeleton of an idea dreamt by a girl far younger and more foolish. Was it still peace if there was pain? Was the General's vision still righteous if there was blood on her hands?

"General?"

She jumped, suddenly brought back to reality. "I'm sorry, Poe," she said hastily, shaking her head. "Just too many thoughts." She cleared her throat, looking up into Poe's young face. Poe had believed in the General his whole life, had committed himself to her vision, perhaps even believed it more strongly than she. He was the one the sacrifice was for, Leia realized. Lives not yet born were the ones the sacrifice was for. Leia wanted a universe of acceptance, love, freedom, and even peace. She wanted to bring about a reality far better than the one she had known. The General had believed it possible once; Poe and the others still did.

All the pain and uncertainty was for them. Most importantly, it was for her son, so that he might believe that his mother's sacrifice of him hadn't been for naught. Ben might know his mother's love lived in something far greater, and that it was worth all the pain she had given him.

"How is Finn recovering?" she asked with a heavy sigh, leaning back in her chair.

Poe gave a thoughtful half-shrug. "He's getting there. He's tough."

"Do you think he might be ready for a mission?"

Poe let his arms fall to his sides as his face widened in surprise. A familiar, mischievous glint had returned to his eye. "Er—yeah, he'll be delighted—"

"It's for both of you," she continued. "And the rest of your team. I want you to pick up a cargo of weapons. _Rogue One_ is getting a shipment, and as soon as I have word, you are to meet her on Lothal. Your point of contact there is an old friend of mine, Lando Calrissian. He runs several gas mining companies. He sells to the First Order, but he's willing to cut a few favors for us, and he can give you a safe cover for the exchange."

"Anything you need." Poe's confidence was overwhelming. The General almost felt guilty giving him this mission, despite it being far less risky than previous ones.

She was losing her nerve.

"Let me know if Finn needs me to override his medical clearance," the General added, leaning forward in her chair. "It was a nasty injury," she added without thinking.

There was a tense silence. General Organa always seemed to come to the subject of her son without realizing it.

"He's a quick healer," Poe said quickly, coming to her defense. His face was serious again, the constant smirk that marked his features missing. He straightened up. "When do you need the crew ready?"

"As soon as possible," she replied.

Poe hesitated as he thought. "I can be ready by tonight, but if you give me leave until tomorrow, I can make sure all the ships are stocked for the long haul."

"Tomorrow, then," General Organa agreed heavily. "Report back to me in the morning—I'll have coordinates ready for you."

Poe left, and the General was left to her own thoughts once more. She was tempted to see Luke, to try to persuade him into action once more, but his confidence was shaken. She was sure there was something else her brother wasn't telling her, but the General wasn't in a position to push him. He had hardly agreed to train Rey, and she was a new target of Snoke. Of course she didn't know it yet; General Organa and Luke had agreed to keep that detail quiet for now, alongside so many others.

The General was no Jedi, but she was the child of a Force-sensitive family, and the mother to a powerfully Force-sensitive son. She could feel the Force surging through Rey, a wild river of potential unleashed now that she was out of the sterile, lifeless desert. The girl needed to learn to control her abilities now, before her own power overwhelmed her. The General had made that mistake once before; perhaps that was why Luke had agreed to go against his resolution and train the girl.

General Organa could feel Snoke's presence, a dark shadow that hovered in the background of her mind. She had begun to pay particular attention to him after Ben disappeared. Ben himself shut her out completely, but she was able to get a glimpse of him from time to time through Snoke. He had been raising her son like a sheep for slaughter, carefully crafting him into a protégé of the Dark side. For years the General had felt his sick pleasure, but now Snoke had a new signature in the Force. A twisted sense of pride had turned to displeasure, approval devolving into the heavy weight of fear.

She had only caught glimpses of it before, mere blips on the radar that disappeared as quickly as they came. But now it was a slow and steady feeling, pulsing quietly through the Force. Though Ben continued to shut her out, the General could see her son was slipping away from the Darkness, away from Snoke.

The desire to rescue him was overwhelming. If given the opportunity, she might throw away the Resistance for the simple chance. It was selfish, and almost twisted, her desire to bring Ben back. A childish dream. But the General had to believe that it was possible to transcend the loathsome details and the endless complications dividing them. A parent's love couldn't be so strong for nothing.

* * *

"You are troubled."

It had become commonplace for Luke to read Rey's face so openly—or perhaps Rey was just terrible at hiding her emotions. Living alone in a desert for most of her life had prevented any need to check herself.

She gave Luke a sideways glance, shrugging. "It's nothing."

"Then why are you troubled by nothing?"

Rey squinted out over the bright, sparkling ocean. They were resting on the salty cliffside, taking a break from a morning of meditation, which was wildly unsuccessful on Rey's part. "It's the dreams again. They're stronger."

"Of Ben?"

"No," Rey replied. "No, I think he realized I was seeing into his mind—or that he was pulling me in. He's blocked me out. It's something…else."

"It can help to meditate on these things," Luke told her. "Not all meditation must be silent."

Rey's eyes narrowed against the bright afternoon light. Loose strands of hair were flying wildly around her face. She wasn't sure why she felt so hesitant to tell Luke about her dreams—he was perhaps the only one who might understand them. They were more like emotions than visions. Every night it was the same: the day she had been left on Jakku, waiting for a faceless family to return. She had known these dreams all her life, was intimately familiar with the loneliness they brought. But the latest ones were different, somehow. Instead of fear or sadness, Rey awoke in anger. The loneliness had shifted to abandonment. More disconcerting still, Rey never felt more attuned to the Force than she did in those brief early morning moments, the dreams still fresh in her mind.

It wasn't the Light that called to her at night. It was something far stronger, something so intimately connected to Rey that she couldn't help but drive herself mad with fantasies about where she had come from. Rey doubted it was the Dark side, but how would she know? Didn't Luke tell her the Dark side was fueled by emotion? More than anything—fine-tuning her powers, becoming a Jedi—Rey wanted answers. Leaving Jakku had taken away her blind hope, and now the reality weighed heavily in her heart. The loneliness of not knowing consumed her and frightened her.

"What happened to Ben Solo?" Rey asked. "To make him betray you?"

Luke was silent a long while, gazing out over the ocean, watching the waves break against the nearby islands. His face was set into a scowl, as though he was lost in thought. When he spoke, his voice sounded far too old. "I grew arrogant," he replied, as though speaking it aloud confirmed it.

Rey's brows knitted together, but she didn't interrupt.

"I felt obligated to train my students in the Old Ways," he continued. "My own training was disjointed between two Masters—I thought my talent alone would be enough. I had guidance, but I didn't listen."

"Who?" Rey asked in spite of herself.

"An old friend," Luke replied evasively. He took a steadying breath, continuing, "Ben came to me when he was nine, maybe ten years old, after a terrible accident. His mother had attempted to manage most of his early training, but she was consumed by her role in the Republic Senate. Leia is a great leader—she formed the Resistance piece by piece—but she was not very popular following the fall of the Empire, and certainly not after the rise of the First Order. The galaxy was drunk on peace, and was reluctant to heed warnings about sanctions and policies with the young First Order. Ben spent quite some time alone."

"What about Han?" Rey asked, a familiar pain twisting her heart as she spoke his name.

"Han loved Ben more than anything," Luke said, his voice even. "But he didn't understand him. Han hardly understood the Force—for most of his life, he didn't even believe in it. So to give him a powerfully Force-sensitive son—and one equally torn between Light and Dark—" Luke sighed. "Leia… felt that Snoke had taken an unusually strong interest in Ben, and so he came to me. He was reluctant to be a Jedi at first—I suspect Han might have unwittingly said a few things—but he soon excelled, and I made him my apprentice when he was thirteen. I lost him four years later."

Rey was frowning. Luke spoke calmly, but there was a cloying pain in his voice. Guilt. The story did little to explain how a boy born to loving parents could become so twisted with darkness that he would turn on everyone.

"Why did he leave?" Rey asked quietly.

"Snoke," Luke replied easily. "He knew what he was doing with Ben—far more than the rest of us. We failed to protect him, failed to understand him, and so Snoke got into his head, probably since the day Ben learned how to walk. The rest, I believe, has mostly been driven by fear. You saw that yourself."

Rey was uncomfortably reminded of the time she had entered his head, and tried to push it out.

"Snoke," Luke continued slowly. He hesitated, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "Snoke is very old, and very powerful. He has been around to see the rise and fall of governments in the galaxy, to see the ebb and flow of the Force in periods of quiet and activity, in surges of Light and Dark. During the time of the Empire, when the Sith were at their most powerful, Snoke had almost no involvement. I won't say he stayed away entirely—he is far too curious not to manipulate a few minds—but he bid his time, and he waited.

"When you live long enough, you understand things that others miss," Luke continued. "Snoke was careful to observe the universe for hundreds of years, to study the mistakes that brought down governments and weakened both Sith and Jedi, and everyone in between. I suppose he came up with a formula for the perfect apprentice, one who could serve him and bring the galaxy under his complete control. After that, it was only a matter of waiting for that apprentice to come along."

There was a heavy silence as Rey considered Luke's words. "You think Snoke manipulated him."

"Far more than that," Luke replied somberly. "You witnessed Ben's unique ability to penetrate minds—that is not a common skill in the galaxy. Ben has likely spent his entire life having his mind invaded, his thoughts and feelings manipulated to carry him down the Dark side. And yet the Light lives on in him—I suspect that as time goes on, Ben's own guilt over his actions propels him even further. Snoke chose an apprentice with equal potential for a very specific reason. Ben _can_ be saved," Luke added suddenly. "You must believe that."

Rey was taken aback by that. She thought of the man who had captured her on Takodana, who had killed his own father. "You're certain?" she asked hesitantly.

"You don't feel it?" Luke queried, disbelief in his voice. "The Light?"

Rey's gaze dropped. There was a mental wall keeping her from believing that the man who killed Han could be anything but a monster.

"It is, perhaps, hard for you to understand why a child left alone would turn to the Dark side for comfort," Luke told her gently. "But if you meet Ben again, you must remember that he didn't choose his fate. We all struggle with the Light and the Dark—Ben was just a child."

Rey let out her breath slowly, biting her lip. She couldn't bring herself to agree, even just to lie.

"The ultimate test of the Jedi," Luke told her, standing up stiffly. "Keeping your emotions in check at all times."

Rey thought back to her nighttime visions, the cloying yearning inside of her, the demand for answers. She was grateful to Luke for agreeing to train her, for tolerating her clumsiness and lack of refinement, but there was something stifling about the island. It didn't feel right to Rey to have spent so much time away from her friends—a war was raging in the galaxy, and she was spending her mornings meditating and reflecting on her inner color.

"Could I take a break?" she asked suddenly, speaking before she could stop herself. "Not a long one," she added hastily, dropping her gaze. "Just a few days to see the others."

"If you wish to go, I won't hold you here," Luke told her.

"I'll come back," Rey promised. "It's just—"

"You miss your friends," Luke guessed. He gave her a knowing smile. "I understand. I was considering offering you a break myself—one needs to live in the world from time to time, so to speak."

"It won't be more than a few days," Rey rushed to say, happiness and relief flooding her veins. She had expected Luke to say no, or to at least be offended. She didn't want to sound ungrateful for her Jedi training, but it was impossible to focus when her thoughts were constantly drifting to the others on D'Qar.

"You'll be back when you're ready," Luke told her, getting to his feet. Though he was smiling at her, Rey couldn't help but feel there was something heavy behind Luke's expression. "And I'll be here, waiting."

* * *

Nomi, Cal, and Ulas were lying on the dusty desert ground, crouched on the edge of a canyon. They shared their single set of binoculars, taking turns to monitor the road below for signs of activity. The rest of the crew were positioned a quarter of a mile away, disguised in official Lotta government uniforms. Nomi wiped her brow with the back of her arm for the hundredth time that morning; the desert heat was suffocating, and continued to grow worse as the blazing sun rose closer to its zenith.

"Once we're done in Lothal, I suggest we stop by Takodana," Ulas said, adjusting his weight on his elbows next to Nomi. "I'm going to fill a bath with Maz's Ebla and get so drunk I won't remember this shithole."

Nomi smirked at that, too sleepy from the heat to reply.

"Next time we tell the General to send us to a temperate planet," Cal added. "With warm beaches and plenty of Coerrelian whiskey."

"Beautiful women, soft beds," Ulas continued. "And plenty of First Order members to shoot down."

"Definitely the latter," said Cal, reaching for the flask of water they shared. He took a long swig and wiped the back of his mouth before continuing, "It'll take weeks to wash the dust out of my arse—"

"Look," Nomi said suddenly, feeling more alert than she had all morning. In the distance, near the entrance to the canyon, they could see a cloud of dust rising in the desert. She reached for the binoculars and focused them. "Oh thank god," she muttered, reaching for the radio. "Red team to blue, sight is set."

"Roger that, red team."

"Let's get into position," Cal suggested, drawing his blaster as he crawled away. Nomi and Ulas followed, each taking a separate path down the canyon. Nomi was careful to step lightly, keeping her feet from kicking up dust. She crouched behind a towering sandstone monolith, holding her blaster at the ready. In the distance she could see dust clouds approaching from either direction; the weapons embargo from the north, and her own crew from the south. Nomi took aim at a particularly fragile arch that hung over the road, her finger pressed against the trigger.

The Sandcrawler was cruising through the canyon, conjuring up a billowing cloud of red dust in its wake. Nomi counted down the seconds before getting on the radio. Very quietly, she said, "On ten." She replaced her hand on her blaster, mentally counting down the seconds. From three different directions, blasters fired at the delicate sandstone arch. It crumbled easily, collapsing into a blinding cloud of dust and debris on the desert floor below. The approaching Sandcrawler came to a grinding halt, narrowly avoiding a crash. On the other side of the road, the _Rogue One_ team's imposter vehicle cruised into place.

Nomi hurried down the canyon, looking over her shoulder at the scene below. The Lottanese crew were climbing out of their vehicle, examining the roadblock in front of them. It wouldn't be long before the shock wore off and help was called in. As she got closer, Nomi could see familiar First Order badges emblazoned on their uniforms and on the side of their vehicle.

Reaching the canyon floor, Nomi radioed to her crew one last time. "Go."

Nomi, Ulas, and Cal emerged from hiding, blasters held up at the ready.

"Get away from the vehicle!" Nomi ordered in her most commanding voice. The Lottanese crew jumped, scrambling for their own weapons when they saw Nomi and the others approaching. Nomi fired a warning shot at the feet of the closest man. "Get the fuck away!"

But the crew had already reached their weapons. Nomi ducked for cover as they opened fire, blaster shots tearing into the canyon walls. Fragile sandstone crumbled around them. Nomi squinted in the blinding dust, hastily wrapping her head cover around her face to filter out the dirt. It was almost impossible to see their target in all the chaos. Nomi held her blaster at the ready, searching through the blinding dust for an enemy target. Just as she took aim, a sudden weight collided against her head and Nomi's vision went black.

* * *

A blinding headache brought Nomi back to reality.

The world was dimly lit, strange shadows hovering between slits of blinding sunlit. Nomi blinked several times to try to clear her vision. Voices echoed around her, foreign and indistinct.

She rolled to her side stiffly, her hair sticking to her damp face.

"You're awake, thief."

Nomi, still on the ground, peered over her shoulder. A barred door was inches from her, separating Nomi from a pair of very dirty boots. Nomi's gaze traveled up to the leathery face of the man who had spoken to her. He was dressed in what looked like an official military uniform, holding a blackmarket blaster rifle protectively across his chest.

"Where am I?" Nomi asked, rubbing a palm across her brow. She sat up a few more inches, a wave of nausea threatening to spill over as she did so.

"Rajik prison, thief," the man spat at her in heavily-accented Basic, kicking dust toward her cell with the tip of his boot. "Stealing from the First Order is a death sentence."

Nomi hesitated, looking up at her captor. "I wasn't stealing from the First Order, I was stealing from Lotta."

"Lotta is First Order."

"Oh, my mistake," Nomi replied with false sincerity. "Please excuse my ignorance, I'm foreign—"

"You stupid enough to think you get away with it, huh? First Order has eyes in the mountains, we see everyone who come and go," the guard told her. He spoke with disdain, but there was a gleam of delight in his dark eyes that told Nomi he was enjoying his own little interrogation. "Stupid thieves, you have no brain—"

Nomi was only half-listening to the insults. She was peering around her cell bars and down the empty corridor, looking for any sign of her crew.

"Stupid woman, too," the guard continued gleefully. Just out of sight, a clang of metal, the sound of a lock turning, followed by footsteps.

The newcomer was dressed in similar garb as Nomi's guard, equipped with the same rough blaster rifle.

"You know, I can get you better ones," Nomi said, pointing to their weapons. "And I'm prepared to give you a huge discount."

The newcomer shot her a disdainful look before turning to his counterpart. The two men spoke quickly in a foreign tongue, Nomi's guard arguing half-heartedly. Nomi's eyes moved between the two, wondering if she could overpower either of them and make a run for it. The door to the ward was locked, but she might be able to bargain her way through if she could get control over the blaster rifle and hold one of the guards hostage.

 _The newer one,_ Nomi decided. He was less of an asshole. She didn't mind shooting the guard who taunted her.

Before she would quite formulate an escape plan, the cell door was suddenly unlocked and the two weapons aimed inches from Nomi's face.

"Up!" barked her guard, barely giving her time to respond. "Up, up! Get up, thief!"

Nomi did as she was told, holding her hands up in surrender. "I got it the first time!" she rushed to say as two pairs of hands seized her around her shoulders and dragged her out. A pair of heavy iron shackles were placed around her wrists, a blaster rifle pointed into the small of her back.

"Walk!" barked the guard.

"I'm not deaf, you don't have to shout at me," Nomi told them coolly as they made their way down the corridor. The door to the ward was opened, revealing a dusty courtyard and a poor excuse for what looked to be a judge and jury.

There was a long table situated in the only shade, seating half a dozen Lottanese and First Order officials, being fanned and watered by slaves who hovered just behind them. Guards armed with blaster rifles stood at attention in the oppressive heat, blackmarket blaster rifles held at the ready in case someone tried to run for it.

Nomi was brought just feet from the table, her guard giving her a final shove with the barrel of his rifle before leaving her. Nomi clenched her jaw, shooting him the dirtiest glare she could muster.

"What is your name, thief?"

Nomi turned her attention back to the table in front of her. She would never be able to escape, but she might be able to kill one or two of these arrogant bastards before the guards cut her down.

"I have no name," Nomi replied, feigning boredom as she scanned over her surroundings again. The stone walls around her were sun-bleached and intricately carved; they might crumble under a well-aimed blaster bolt.

"This will go easier for you if you cooperate," the woman next to the interrogator spoke up. She was dressed in the First Order uniform, though hers was nowhere near as nice as any Nomi had seen. Nomi turned her attention toward her, recognizing the rank on the woman's shoulder.

"It doesn't matter what I say, Lietenant…Cardal," Nomi said, leaning forward a few inches to read the name. As she did, each person at the table reached for their hidden weapons, anticipating a sudden attack. Nomi was careful not to look at them, determined to keep up her mask of indifference. "I'm a thief, you caught me stealing—although in my defense, I had no idea that Lotta was First Order, so I'm not sure it's really fair to have a First Order punishment—"

"We want to know who you work for," the first man spoke up. "When we captured you, you had a pocketbook of nearly every trading stamp in the galaxy, First Order included. And you were attempting to steal ship components in the middle of a war zone."

"Right, okay," Nomi said briskly. "You must be new at this, so let me clarify—thieves don't work for anyone, it's not like an employment opportunity or something—"

"Your sarcasm is a poor mask for your fear," the man snapped. "You can either answer our questions, or you can let the Knights of Ren drag it out of you."

In spite of herself, Nomi froze. A cold fist seized her heart. "You're bluffing—the Knights couldn't be bothered with such an irrelevant government's theft problems—"

"They could if that thief works for the Resistance," he interrupted. "And especially if that thief knows the current coordinates to General Organa's secret base of operations. We know that D'Qar is a smokescreen."

Nomi looked around herself once more. She was surrounded by Stormtroopers, guards, and blaster rifles. She would never get out alive.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Get her out of here," Lietenant Cardal snapped, waving a dismissive hand. Immediately two guards seized Nomi from either side. "Take her to Ren—bring us the next prisoner."

Nomi was marched out of the courtyard and down a new corridor—this one much cleaner than her prison ward. They moved through narrow corridors quickly, turning corners tightly and suddenly. Nomi's arms were growing numb under the firm grip of her captors, but she didn't care complain. They passed several doors guarded by Stormtroopers until their narrow hallway opened up to an expansive corridor. It was shadowed and several degrees cooler, but Nomi hardly had time to enjoy the relief from the heat when a door at the end was opened and she was marched inside.

The room had the appearance of being much larger than it actually was. The ceiling rose and arched into a central point high above them, with geometric windows cut into the stone to circulate the air. It would have been a display of beautiful architecture, but Nomi was too fixated on the man who sat on the end of a plush sofa. He had turned to watch their sudden and dramatic entrance, observing in silence as Nomi was dragged directly into his line of sight, her guards standing rigidly at either side.

"A thief, from the Tuppamaros Desert," one of the guards said, squeezing Nomi's arm tighter. "We caught her and two others attempting to steal ship components. Lietenant Cardal suspects she may be with the Resistance."

Nomi hardly dared to move, even breathe, under the penetrating gaze of the man before her. He wore no official uniform, though his clothes were the standard wash of grey and black of the First Order military. His youth was almost masked by the menacing scar that ran the length of his cheek and throat, disappearing underneath the folds of his tunic. His dark eyes were sharp, almost searching, and Nomi had the uncomfortable feeling that the man could somehow read her thoughts.

"Leave us."

His voice was soft, deep, but somehow still terrifying in the authority it conveyed as the two guards scampered from the room, eager to leave. His eyes never left Nomi's face as he sat before her, as still as a statue.

Or a predator.

"What's your name?" he asked, almost conversationally.

"What's yours?" Nomi replied rebelliously, trying to calm her nerves.

"I have been called several," he replied. "Why would you attempt to steal heavily-guarded cargo, in broad daylight, in an active conflict zone?"

In spite of herself, Nomi snorted. "Conflict zone? You mean massacre. I saw what you did to the other villages."

The man finally broke the unnerving eye contact. "It disturbs you to see the aftermath of war," he continued, looking out the window. In the warmer light, his features appeared softer, more human. "But you have no qualms murdering innocent men in the desert to supply a terrorist organization with advanced fuel cells."

"They're not innocent. And I won't tell you anything."

The man turned back to look at her, dark eyes searching her once more. There was a knowing look on his face, and Nomi couldn't fight the feeling that she was now in deep trouble. "You won't need to."


	7. An Astute Observation

**Invisible Light**

Chapter Seven

* * *

"It's always so good to see you, Rey," General Organa said warmly, her fingers tracing the outline of Rey's face. "I'm only sorry you missed the boys by hours—they're out on a mission."

"So Finn's all right?" Rey asked earnestly. The last time she had seen him, he was unconscious and was in danger of never walking again.

"Better than all right," the General Organa assured her. "He was very eager to go, and he took his physical therapy very seriously. And Poe is with him—they'll keep each other out of trouble."

Rey nodded. She was happy to hear of Finn's miraculous recovery, but she couldn't help but feel she had been out of the loop for the last three months. There was so much she had missed during her time training with Luke, and Rey almost felt guilty of her ignorance. "What's happening with the Resistance?" she asked, barely remembering to drink the tea the General had offered her earlier.

"We're getting by, like we always do," the general replied with a half-shrug. "As long as there's one person willing to fight, the Resistance will live on. We're much better prepared than that, of course," she added at the look on Rey's face. "The First Order has put a chokehold on intergalactic trade, but the black market opens up windows to new technology and supplies. But enough about politics—I want to hear how your training with Luke is going."

Rey gave her a polite, hesitant smile. "Er," she said slowly, grimacing as she thought. "I don't think I'm a very good student," she admitted. "Luke's very patient, of course, but most of the time I don't know what I'm doing. Not like Master Luke."

"Luke was just the same," the general assured her. "Obi-Wan was his master for only a few short weeks, and then Yoda took over for even less time. Luke has had guidance over the years, but his biggest teacher has been the simple passage of time. The Force is never easily harnessed."

Rey briefly thought of Kylo Ren, of his unnaturally skilled abilities in the Force. If it weren't for the fact that Rey had nearly killed him that night, she wouldn't believe herself capable of harnessing the Force at all.

"Luke tells me you're particularly vicious in fighting," General Organa continued, a twinkle in her brown eyes. "Good. A woman should always know how to fight."

"I'm afraid it's not very elegant," Rey admitted with a small deprecating laugh. "Luke says I fight like a scavenger—I have to consciously think about using the Force, but then in my efforts, I get distracted."

The general smirked at that. "And what is he having you do to practice?"

Rey shrugged. "Just…you know, like practicing it over and over again." Suddenly anxiety hit her like the midday Jakku heat. "Should I be more advanced by now?" she asked worriedly.

The general waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, no reason—just that I know some Jedi Masters who used rather… bizarre training techniques. Ask Luke about his time in Dagobah when you get the chance. Anyway, I hear it's going well, and I'm glad, truly," she added, a somber expression on her face. "For both you and Luke. After my son left, I'm sure Luke thought he could never train anyone again."

There was a pregnant silence. The general had mentioned her son so casually, as if he had simply changed his mind about Jedi training, and it was an uncomfortable contrast to the horrors Kylo Ren had committed.

"Is that why he hasn't come back?" Rey asked carefully. "To the Resistance?"

"It's part of it," General Organa allowed slowly. "Luke harbors a lot of guilt over what happened—we all do. There were things we…well, no matter," she said, shaking her head as though to clear cluttered thoughts. "But his absence is due to far more than just shame. When Snoke moved into the open and declared his intentions to take over the galaxy, Luke rushed to ensure that Snoke could still be defeated."

Rey frowned. "What do you mean?"

"There's a bigger prize than ultimate power," she said slowly, frowning. "I was sure the information was lost when the Sith disappeared, but Luke believed otherwise—it's why Snoke wanted Ben specifically—"

Before she could continue, her office doors opened and the Protocol Droid, C-3PO, rushed in, shortly followed by R2-D2. "General!" he said in his usual clipped tones. "I have a message from our friend on Lothal—oh! Dear me, I'm interrupting!" C-3PO turned awkwardly to leave, but the general called him back.

"No matter, you're not interrupting," she said. The General's warm smile had faded at the sense of urgency in her droid. "What's the message?"

" _Rogue One_ has been intercepted on Anthan Prime!" C-3PO exclaimed.

Rey felt her heart leap in her chest as she looked between the droid and the general. The older woman's face hardened but otherwise remained remarkably impassive. "What's their status?"

"Unknown, General," C-3PO rushed to continue. "Recon reports one fatality on the _Rogue One_ crew, though the victim is yet unknown. The others have reportedly been taken prisoner and face interrogation by the Knights of Ren."

The General's face blanched at that. "And Lando?" she asked, her voice heavy with trepidation. "Has the First Order become aware of our alliance?"

"Well, go on," C-3PO instructed, turning to R2-D2, who whirred and beeped before flashing a hologram recording of a man whom Rey assumed must be Lando Calrissian.

"Your crew was intercepted in the Tupamaros Desert on Anthan Prime. The First Order boarded their ship, checked their travel logs, communications, everything. I couldn't do anything to stop it—my recon team couldn't risk revealing themselves. The Knights of Ren were called in to investigate. I don't want you to worry, General," he added sharply. "There's no indication as yet where _Rogue One_ was intending to take the cargo; Lothal remains safe. Take care of yourself, Leia."

The recording stopped and the hologram disappeared. All eyes in the room went to General Organa, who had a face made of stone.

"Very well, R2, thank you," she said stiffly. She took a deep, steadying breath, rubbing her hands together distractedly. "Let me know when Recon hears from _Fireteam Bravo_ and Poe. Direct all reconnaissance teams out of the Lothal System—I don't want the First Order to get any evidence that Lando's been helping us. Instruct them to shut down their communications system and to report to Dantooine. I will direct them from there."

"Yes, General," C-3PO replied, already turning back to the door. R2-D2 hovered a moment, giving the impression that the droid was measuring up General Organa. Realizing his companion was not with him, C-3PO smacked the back of the smaller droid. "Come along, R2! We have work to do!"

"I'm afraid I must go, too," General Organa said distractedly. "I must oversee preparations about a rescue mission for _Rogue One—"_

"I can help," Rey said adamantly, following the older woman out of her quarters.

"You have to complete your training," the general replied, waving a dismissive hand.

"I want to help," Rey insisted. They were traveling through narrow corridors carved into the hillside, toward the main Communications chamber. "There's no point to being a Jedi if I'm tucked away—Master Luke will understand—"

The General scoffed. "He ought to—Luke ran away from his training three or four times to rescue his friends."

Rey took a step in front of General Organa, blocking her path. While the older woman's face was worn, Rey's held a light of electric anticipation. "Does this mean you'll let me help?"

General Organa sighed, giving Rey a long look. "We'll see," she finally said. "But you must understand the risks involved—this won't be like last time. And I implore you to speak with Luke first."

"I want to do it," Rey insisted with such confidence that the general's stony façade crumbled, and she gave Rey a weak smile.

"Very well," she said, a small sigh escaping her lips. She looked around distractedly, as though wondering where to begin. "I'll need to match you to a crew. Chewie tells me you're quite the mechanic—I can put you in the hangar bay for now. We lost our shipment on Anthan Prime, so we'll need to send a new team out for X-Wing parts."

"I'm collecting parts?" Rey asked, slightly crestfallen. "I'm not going to Anthan Prime?"

The General scoffed. "Absolutely not—if the Knights of Ren are there, then Snoke's watching—and that's the last place you need to be."

Rey hurried to follow the general through the main base, who was running off orders to a nearby officer.

"…the fuel supply…"

"…up to three hundred units a barrel—"

"Have you made progress with the Republic?"

"We're in negotiations," the officer replied. "But if we keep to our present course, we might convince them."

"Good. Let me know when we get the official word," the general said.

"Will I see Finn again?" Rey asked when the officer had taken his leave.

General Organa hesitated. "Perhaps—but maybe not for a while, yet. They are being rerouted to Dantooine at the moment, until we can regroup and find an alternative source for X-wing parts."

While Rey had tried not to get her hopes up, General Organa's words still crushed the fragile sliver of hope inside her. It had been months, and Rey still had not gotten used to such a long absence from her first and closest friend. She swallowed her defeat and fixed a brave mask to her face. "All right—where do you need me?"

* * *

There was a stiff silence in the room as the weight of his words sank in.

"I've been tortured before," she replied bravely. Her jaw was set, her face rigid. "I'm not afraid of you."

Ren didn't doubt her, but this woman had yet to learn who he was. He gestured with his hand toward a nearby chair—the thief turned and watched, stunned, as the chair slid easily across the tiled floor of its own accord.

"I have no interest in torture," Ren replied easily. He gestured toward the chair. "Have a seat."

The woman turned back around slowly, her face now slack with disbelief. She sank into the chair slowly, her handcuffed hands resting in her lap. Her gaze leveled with Ren's. Now they were getting somewhere. "Who are you?"

Ren leaned forward so he was just below eye-level with Nomi, his elbows resting on his legs, wide hands clasped together.

"Cardal called you 'Ren," she continued, more to herself than to her interrogator. "The Knights of Ren…you're one of them, aren't you?"

"I command them," he replied evenly.

"I've heard of you…" the thief continued. Ren watched her unconsciously lean back in her chair to put more space between them. "Better parts of the galaxy think you're a black witch, capable of reading minds."

Ren reply, but he also didn't refute the suggestion.

There was a pause as the woman considered him. "Is it true?" she finally asked.

Ren ignored her question, sinking just a little further into her mind. "Nomi Sisk," he said softly, searching her tanned face for a reaction as he spoke. "Pilot of a smuggling ship...and you're from Corellia..." The familiar planet put a bitter taste in Ren's mouth. "Corellia's known across thengalaxy for their pilots and mechanics."

"What an astute observation."

Ren smirked.

"Lietenant Cardal wants the coordinates to General Organa's new headquarters…" he said. He had only to plant the suggestion, and wait as the thoughts trickled across the forefront of the prisoner's mind. It was easier to interrogate this way; the victim had no idea their mind was being invaded because they were practically broadcasting their thoughts. "But you haven't been there…" he added slowly, skimming over the surface of the woman's mind. She had no real information, and even with deeper probing, Ren doubted whether he would find any. She was just a smuggler, a common thief trying to make a quick sale. Her current buyer just so happened to be the Resistance.

"You'll never find them," she insisted.

"I don't intend to."

Her face twisted with suspicion. "Then why keep me here?" she demanded, a coolness returning to her voice. "We've established that you have no interest in the information I _don't know_ , so why question me?"

"I didn't bring you here, Cardal did," he replied, bored, sitting up straight again. "You're her prisoner, not mine."

"So you interrogate on her orders?" the woman demanded. "Is she your commander? Oh, but what does that make you if she's just a Lieutenant?"

Ren smirked at the slight, but didn't rise to the bait. "Why were you stealing ship components in such a dangerous area?" he asked again, more out of curiosity than formal procedure. "Is the Resistance that desperate?"

"I'm not telling you," she replied resolutely. She hesitated, then dared to challenge, "Why don't you just pull the information from my mind?"

Ren was about to speak, but his attention was suddenly drawn to the closed door. A crease formed between his dark eyes. He could sense intruders, two soldiers fast approaching. They were angry, frustrated… Ren steeled himself against the inevitable intrusion. The thief turned to look at the door as well, but to her there was nothing there. Then, suddenly, hurried footsteps, barked orders, and the doors flew open so violently that the prisoner nearly jumped out of her skin.

Two black figures strode in, dragging an unconscious form between them.

"Ulas!" the woman shouted, recognition spreading across her face. Ren could feel her about to leap to her feet, but he held her frozen in place. He didn't even want to be on this base, interrogating Leiutenant Cardal's prisoners over trivial matters, and he certainly didn't need chaos to erupt before he could justify returning to the _Finalizer._

The two men swept briskly into the room, dragging the unconscious figure and dropping him on the plush carpet next to the thief's chair. He was injured, but would certainly live. Ren frowned as he hastily searched the peripheral thoughts of the two Knights before him, quickly piecing together what had happened.

"I thought there were three of them," he said in careful Mandalorian, looking up at them. He ignored the frightened stare of the first prisoner, but he couldn't fight off the creeping fear that entered his mind. He had to consciously snub it away and focus on feeling only his own thoughts.

"There were," the nearest Knight, Darin, replied. "The two escaped, no doubt trying to rescue this one," he added, gesturing to the woman. "Judro shot him."

Ren turned his sharp gaze to Judro in exasperation. "You killed a prisoner? Before they could be questioned?"

"It's not like he could have told you anything the other two couldn't," Judro replied in the same irritated tongue.

"How did these two escape?"

"They taunted their Lottanese guards, who decided to open their cell doors and—I presume—teach them a lesson," Darin replied dully, his hand resting on the barrel of his blaster. "The thieves overpowered their guards, killed them with their own weapons, and attempted to flee the cell block. They made it as far as this wing before Judro and I intervened."

Ren swore under his breath, rubbing both eyes with his palms now. "What does Lieutenant Cardal have to say about it?"

"Not much, I'm sure," Judro replied coolly, looking around the room with mild interest. "We did her dirty work for her."

"Where's the dead one right now?" Ren asked, getting to his feet stiffly. His hand instinctively went to his side, and he could feel Judro watching him as he did so.

"Still in the hallway."

"We flagged a Stormtrooper to clean up the mess," Darin replied before Ren's irritation could flare.

"Great," Ren said flatly, turning to look at the unconscious figure before him.

"Just turn them both in," Judro interrupted sourly, looking rather bored. "It's wasting time. I want to get off this shithole planet as much as you do, Kylo. They're thieves, let them pay."

In spite of himself, Ren turned his gaze to the woman, who still sat rigid and frightened. Ren realized he was still using the Force to hold her in place. He relented his grip on her, and she darted from her seat to the floor faster than a blaster shot.

"What do you want us to do?" Darin asked.

Ren watched the woman try to shake her companion awake. In spite of his best efforts, her anguish was seeping through his mental walls, and he was feeling the woman's distress as clearly as if it were his own. A heavy weight settled in his chest, constricting his breathing, stinging somewhere behind his eyes… "Just…give me a few more minutes," he replied distractedly

"Where's Cal?" the thief demanded. "What have you done with him?"

Ren unstuck his throat, but Judro beat him to it.

"Your other companion's dead. He was killed when they tried to escape," he told her in barely-accented Basic.

The woman blanched, falling back on her hands to steady herself. Shock and disbelief threatened to choke her—choke Ren—and she struggled to turn back to her friend, to shake him awake as though afraid if he didn't get up now, then he never would.

"Shut up!" Judro snapped, kicking her off her barely-conscious companion with the heel of his boot. "You're lucky that's all that happened—" He turned to Ren sharply. "Kylo, just kill them and be done with it—"

"You coward!" the woman on the floor hissed, accusation heavy in her voice.

Ren moved toward the open window, desperate for even a hint of a breeze. The woman's suffering was too much to bear; the effort to block her out was almost nauseating.

"Are you going to kill us, too?" she demanded.

Ren turned to look over at her. She was attempting to get to her feet, desperately searching for her last shred of defiance. Darin held his blaster at the ready, and Judro already had his hand around the handle of his favored knife. Ren knew he should stop this before it got out of hand—but it was already out of hand-

"Because I'll ask you to do it now and get it over with," she hissed. "How brave the First Order must be, invading unprotected planets and bullying little governments into bending over. And _you_ …" she added, rounding on Ren with utmost loathing in her eyes. "The Commander of such an elite task force…your mother must be so proud."

Though the woman had no reason to know who Ren's mother was, the insult had its intended bite. Ren was overcome with the sudden urge to just leave—leave the room, abandon his mission, and just disappear into the cold, black embrace of empty space. This was just too much. He didn't even know if the distress he felt was his own or the prisoner's. The lines separating Ren from his surroundings were too blurred.

"Get them out of here."

Judro rolled his eyes, letting his hand fall away from his weapon.

Darin looked at him questioningly. "To their cells?"

"No—just out—just get rid of them," Ren managed to say through the blinding panic that was choking him. "They're just thieves, they don't know anything—"

The woman's face stiffened, suspicion taking over. "You lie."

"You're sure?" Darin asked warily. "They're from the Resistance—"

"I sad go!" Ren snapped, reaching a hand out against the window's sill for support. He flicked his fingers and the cuffs binding the prisoner dropped heavily to the floor. "Take your thieving friend and get out of my sight!"

The woman didn't wait to be told again. Darin helped her friend to his feet, while Judro took a fir grip of the woman's arm and dragged them both toward the exit. With a shove of his hand, the doors flew open and banged against the walls, threatening to break off their hinges.

"At ease," Ren commanded the awaiting Stormtrooper guard, who exchanged hesitant looks with one another at the bizarre scene before them.

Ren followed Darin and Judro to make sure they did as they were told, watching the two Knights dump the prisoners unceremoniously in the middle of the front courtyard. Judro shoved the woman harder than was necessary, knocking her to the ground. Ren watched her attempt to help her companion to his feet, a vice around his throat. Darin and Judro turned on their heel, passing Ren on either side. Darin was wordless, but Judro shot Ren a scathing, contemptuous look.

"No matter!" Judro shouted in the corridor behind Ren, laughing sourly. "Plenty of other traitors and terrorists awaiting their execution!"

There was a ringing silence, a bizarre contrast to the chaos from moments before. The nearby Stormtroopers hesitated before shuffling back into position. Ren could feel all their eyes on him.

Once Darin and Judro were gone, Ren looked around the corridor. Sure enough, there were bloody footprints all over the place, and the clear signs of a badly-mopped puddle about a dozen meters away. Around him, Stormtroopers and Lottanese soldiers were staring at him, shaken by all the chaos of the afternoon.

Ren took a steadying breath, trying to force the Resistance thief's lingering emotions away. "Clean that mess up properly," he ordered without any real conviction.

Instead of returning to his duties as inquisitor, Ren retreated to the far side of the base, moving aimlessly between corridors. He couldn't make sense of what he had just done—and the Supreme Leader was not going to be happy.

* * *

General Hux marched through the halls of the _Finalizer,_ his usual scowl in place. Idling Stormtroopers were quick to jump to attention as he passed. Their lack of conduct while on duty annoyed Hux, but he had more pressing matters to attend to. Perhaps he would inform Captain Phasma of their behavior and let her deal with the verbal beat down of the unit.

No, Hux already had his own problem, and it was in the form of a single man.

Kylo Ren was notorious for allowing his own agenda to take precedence over his duties to the First Order, but the Supreme Leader had always overlooked it. The leniency drove Hux mad, not only because he himself couldn't tolerate that sort of behavior, but because Ren's recklessness regularly meant extra work for the First Order—and for Hux in particular. He had tolerated the temperamental Ren thus far, purely out of necessity, but the destruction of Starkiller Base had left an unquenchable rage in Hux. The project had been the highlight of his career, the blending of power, science, and technology into one streamlined machine. Had Ren followed his orders to retrieve the droid—or better yet, blown it up on Jakku when they had the chance—Starkiller would still exist and the Rebellion would be in its final throes of death.

Instead the galaxy was torn apart by conflict; the Republic was too stubborn to back down, but too afraid to join the Resistance. Three factions of government warred within the galaxy, all rushing to claim planets and resources, and gain the upper hand. It was boorish, inelegant. Hux was a linear man. He preferred systems and proven methods that offered repeatable results. The strict regimen of the First Order's top general had suited his meticulous nature perfectly. Babysitting Kylo Ren should never have been part of his responsibilities.

Hux would have lost no sleep leaving Ren behind on Starkiller Base, but Snoke was notoriously protective of his apprentice and would not have allowed it.

But even Snoke's patience wore thin at some point, Hux knew.

Hux reached the Communications chamber several minutes early, but allowed himself entry anyway. He would stand inside while he waited for the Supreme Leader's call.

The mission on Anthan Prime had taken a stark turn, and Hux knew it was absolutely the fault of Kylo Ren and the other Knights. They were little more than a gang of Mandalorians, obsessed with the old lore and too preoccupied with the thought of violence to appreciate the delicate structure of a true military. Hux would never have allowed such a group of childish mercenaries to lead a mission, but the Supreme Leader had needed an excuse to push Kylo Ren. Hux had no sympathy for witchcraft, but even he was mystified by Snoke's choice in an apprentice. Ren was temperamental and unstable, and needed constant pushing when it came to his training. If Ren had been in the Stormtrooper program, he would have been recycled half a dozen times until even Phasma lost her patience and eliminated him. The dead Mandalorian Sorvae would have made a better student, and Hux was sure the Knight had fueled himself purely on violence and bloodlust.

The only thing Ren was useful for—other than instilling fear into the Stormtroopers—was his mind-reading trick. And Hux could certainly do without that…

The enormous grey hologram of the Supreme Leader flickered into life, filling the cavernous space before him. Snoke wore a serious expression, skipping the pleasantries and going straight to business. "There is a meeting with the Republic in the Neutral Territories," Snoke began. "I had intended to send Kylo Ren, but the plan has changed—you will go in his stead and Captain Phasma will take over the operation in Anthan Prime."

Hux tried not to let his emotions show. Where Ren had needed a literal mask to keep his thoughts hidden, Hux could craft one in seconds. "Very well, Supreme Leader."

"I want Kylo Ren back on the _Finalizer,_ " Snoke continued. There was a trace of anger in his voice that Hux had never associated with Kylo Ren, and he idly wondered what the other man could have possibly ruined now. "The Mandalorian Judro will take over in his place."

"I will deliver the message personally," Hux replied.

"No," Snoke said sharply. "Deliver it through Phasma—I have my own mission for you, and I cannot allow you to cross paths with Kylo Ren before then."

In spite of himself, Hux was certainly curious. His composure slipped, his brows knitting together. "Sir?"

"It appears Kylo Ren has reached a standstill," Snoke went on coolly. "He no longer obeys my command—I must decide how to proceed without him. I want that Scavenger girl," he added, his voice low and dangerous. The hair on the back of Hux's neck stood on end.

"With the backing of our military, I am at your full command," Hux told Snoke. A mix of trepidation and twisted pleasure burned inside him at the knowledge that after fifteen long years, Snoke was finally coming to his senses about Ren. "You need only to give your order."

"When Kylo Ren returns to the _Finalizer,_ I wish to have a word with him immediately. I must determine if he is capable of accepting further training. If not," he added ominously. "Then I will need your strict loyalty, General."

"You will have it."

Snoke sat back in his chair, giving Hux a long look. He let out a slow breath through his nose, then continued, "Now as for the girl… we may be unable to rely on Kylo Ren to find her. She has begun her training under Luke Skywalker…I can feel her in the Force…a hidden darkness calls out to me. She may prove the true apprentice. Skywalker will have hidden her—we will need to draw her out. I have seen her weakness through Ren—the family she longs for," he added cruelly. "I have already sent her dreams…before long the question will become an obsession, and that obsession will consume her. She will float on the edge of the Dark side, struggling to fall in, and only when she is begging for release will I accept her."

Hux swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Though jealousy flared from time to time, Hux was grateful that his strengths were in commanding the First Order, and not with the Force. Snoke was an ominous Leader, but his reputation as a Force-user was far more menacing. While Ren's poor attitude could certainly be the fault of having a smuggling criminal for a parent, his violent instability seemed more in line with Snoke's tutelage.

"We will deal with the matter of my apprentice first, General," Snoke said dismissively. "Send your messages to Captain Phasma and be ready to receive further instruction after I have spoken with Kylo Ren. You will speak of this to no one. Your loyalty has never been shaken, General," he added.

"And it never shall," Hux said firmly. He saluted the Supreme Leader, watching the hologram flicker and die. It was only when Hux was sure he was alone that he let out the breath he had been holding.

Ren was a formidable enemy, and while Hux felt nothing short of disdain for the other man, he would certainly never want to be pitted against him. He could only hope that whatever Snoke had in mind, that Hux was a safe distance away.

* * *

A threatening danger was palpable in the air.

Ren knew he was walking a very fine line with Snoke's patience. In fact, he was sure the only thing saving him was the time invested in him. He had been at odds with the Supreme Leader more times since the destruction of Starkiller base than he could remember in the nearly twenty years they had known each other. Even the betrayal of Luke's academy hadn't warranted this much of a fight.

In the back of his mind, Ren knew they were separating. The Light was carving a rift not only between Ren and Snoke, but also between Ren and himself. His identity as a Knight of Ren and a Dark Force-user was crumbling, and he was powerless to stop it. Anger that had once fueled the Dark side now only brought more strength to the Light.

Ren had received a message from Captain Phasma to report to the _Finalizer_ the day after he had allowed the two Resistance sympathizers to escape. The only thing that surprised him about this was the fact that it had not been Hux to deliver the summons. Perhaps that was for the best—Phasma was notoriously professional, whereas Hux would not have been able to prevent himself from gloating. Hux didn't enjoy anything quite as much as he enjoyed condescending to Ren.

Ren was not sorry to leave Anthan Prime behind—he was still dreaming about the mass graves in the mines—but the prospect of facing Snoke's anger wasn't any better. Wild thoughts of running away kept entering his mind, but Ren was no coward. Whether he was facing death or punishment, Ren would meet it head on.

Besides, there was nowhere to go. A long time ago, Snoke had made sure of that.

Ren entered the Communications Chamber as soon as his shuttle docked in the bay. He had been escorted by Stormtroopers, which was the first sign of Snoke's displeasure. Ren had been expecting to communicate with the usual hologram, and was taken aback to see Snoke's physical form waiting for him in the dim light.

"Kylo Ren," Snoke greeted. His voice was cold, unhappy. Ren felt his heart quicken with trepidation, and instantly his mental walls were up, his guard elevated. Snoke was standing on the far side of the room, his back to Ren. He paced in a small line, a single fist opening and closing. "You have…disappointed me."

An invisible force slammed into the back of Ren's shoulders, forcing him to the ground. He landed hard, the brunt of the impact knocking the air out of his lungs. An unseen grip formed around his throat, tightening, threatening to crush his windpipe. Ren struggled against the attack, reaching out through the Force to keep Snoke out of his mind. The invisible hand yanked Ren sideways, and he slid hard into the metal wall. Stars burst across his vision, and Ren fought to clear his head.

"You dare defy me?" Snoke roared, his voice echoing across the cavernous room.

A sharp pain seared across Ren's side as the invisible fist crushed his half-healed ribs. He gasped with pain, trying to steel his mind against the attack. Instinctively he clawed at the fingers around his throat, but of course nothing was there.

"You took _pity_? On some insignificant _thief?_ "

He was choking now. The fist clenched around his throat tightened. Ren could feel himself growing weak as the life was strangled out of him.

 _Explain!_ roared the Supreme Leader's voice in his thoughts.

His mind was split open, exposed. Ren would have screamed if he could. Snoke tore through his head, searching for a justification. _No,_ Ren thought weakly. There were memories in there Snoke couldn't see…

With tremendous effort, Ren reached out to the Force, driving Snoke out of his head. The invisible fist released and Ren gasped for air. There was a moment's hesitation as Snoke took in what his student had just done—a moment to decide whether or not to kill his apprentice.

Snoke lit his lightsaber, approaching Ren swiftly. The appearance of an arthritic old man disappeared, replaced by a vengeful and fearsome Master of the Dark. Panicked and gasping for air, Ren considered reaching for his own weapon—could he fight Snoke off? Before he could so much as move his fingers toward his hip, however, Snoke lowered his lightsaber.

"Never again," he warned Ren, his voice full of wrath, his thin chest rising and falling rapidly with each furious breath. His robes billowed around him like a dark cloud. He extinguished his lightsaber, attaching the weapon securely to his belt. Snoke leaned over Ren, who lay against the wall struggling to catch his breath. His face was only inches from Ren's; he was sure the Supreme Leader could hear his pounding heart. "Or I will cut you down myself."

Ren avoided Snoke's gaze, clutching at his aching side. It was agony to breathe, and yet his lungs were screaming for air. The space around them was tense, electric.

Snoke's face withdrew, and the Supreme Leader straightened up. Ren could hear his footsteps retreating, but the danger hadn't passed. "Tell me," Snoke asked, his voice full of cool disappointment. "what I should do with you."

Invisible fingers reached for this throat again. Ren's head was slammed backward into the wall. Stars erupted across his vision. The fingers tightened, digging their clawlike tips into Ren's throat. The fist stopped just short of strangling him.

"I must admit," Snoke continued, pacing across the dim corridor. His gravelly voice carried across the chamber, echoing off the walls. "I did not expect to be so disappointed by you. After all this time…" He turned to look at Ren directly, a penetrating look on his scarred and ancient face. The invisible fist continued to hold him in place, but Ren's own efforts were focused on keeping his mental walls up. It was taking every bit of strength he had to keep his mind empty when faced with Snoke's probing.

Snoke curled and uncurled his fist, a habit when he was agitated. He resumed his pacing. "You succeeded where Darth Vader failed," he told Ren, thinking aloud. "And yet you let the Light in more than ever."

Ren shut his eyes tightly, trying to focus. _Empty your mind,_ he kept telling himself, even as his panic was threatening to take over. Instinctively his hands clawed at his throat, his heels digging into the cold floor as he struggled to breathe.

"Perhaps I overestimated you," Snoke continued, almost resigned. "The ways of the Force continue to elude me…so what do I do with you?"

Suddenly Ren was yanked forward. The shock was enough to catch him off guard as he was dragged across the room and frozen in place directly before Snoke. The Supreme Leader had his lightsaber in hand, the end of the hilt pressed squarely into Ren's chest, over his pounding heart.

 _He'll crush you._

This was it, then.

This was the end.

Ren prepared himself for the blade to pierce his chest, to die the way his father had. Fear lingered on the periphery of his mind, but as Ren readied himself for death, he found that instead of fright, he was full of regret. It was too late to be redeemed; he had allowed Snoke to take everything, and now there was nothing left.

"Tell me," Snoke whispered, his pale eyes searching Ren's face for the answer. "Can you still be saved? Or are you lost to me?"

 _He's using you for your power._

 _I want that Scavenger girl._

Something like anger flickered in his soul. Snoke sensed it, and his invisible grip suddenly relaxed. Ren fell to the floor in a heap, gasping for breath. His head was spinning. Darkness threatened to overtake him. He could feel Snoke standing over him, considering him, but what the Supreme Leader didn't realize was that Ren had caught a glimpse of his mind.

The Scavenger. Snoke wanted her, desired her power just as strongly as he had once desired Ren's.

"We will continue this later," Snoke said dismissively, his slow footsteps carrying across the room.

Ren was still crumpled on the floor long after Snoke had left. His throat was burning, his side raw with pain. Though the danger had passed, fear made Ren's heart beat furiously and his hands tremble. But stronger than the pain and fear was rage, coursing through his bones like turbulent waves, crashing and breaking against itself. It consumed Ren, overwhelming him with the violent urge to lash out, to destroy.

Not just walls and computers and inanimate objects.

Snoke.


	8. Secret Missions

**Invisible Light**

Chapter Eight

* * *

Nomi banged the engines into life, barely waiting long enough for the fuel cells to prime before she brought _Rogue One_ out of the atmosphere. She slammed the ship into hyperdrive, ignoring the sudden jerk as the ship was launched into deep space. She felt tears flooding her vision, and her hands shook violently. Once the ship was on course, a single sob escaped her lungs violently. Nomi pressed a hand tightly over her mouth, squinting her eyes tightly. She tried to keep the overwhelming fear inside—she hated the crew seeing her beneath her best—but she couldn't fight the image of Cal lying dead in a corridor somewhere.

It was all her fault.

Another sob escaped, the tears flowing freely over her fingers. Nomi shrunk into herself, one arm wrapped tightly across her chest as though to keep herself from literally falling apart.

The other crew were somewhere in the cargo hold. Nomi was grateful no one had tried to comfort her, too preoccupied with tending to Ulas. She cried quietly in the cockpit, fighting the urge to vomit at the knowledge that she was responsible for a friend's death. She should never have agreed to this mission. It was foolish to believe that any of them could flirt with death and expect to come back untouched.

When Nomi's heartrate returned to normal, she wiped at her face furiously. She hated crying. She checked the ship's sensors, more as a formality than an actual need. Nomi was delaying going into the cargo hold and facing her crew. They wouldn't judge her of course, and that was the worst part of it.

Nomi curled her feet underneath her in the pilot's seat, resting her forehead in the palm of her hand. It was as though everything inside of her had suddenly been stripped away, leaving an emptiness that begged to be healed again. She avoided looking at Cal's empty seat next to her, but the space demanded her attention and answers she couldn't give. The whole ship seemed to be watching her, judging her, demanding answers for the crime she had committed.

The ship was set to D'Qar, where it would then reroute to the new official Headquarters of the Resistance. Nomi had no idea why she bothered returning, only that she didn't know where else she could go.

The ship landed in the Resistance base on Dantooine's largest moon, D-683, almost twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Nomi lowered the shields and shut off the engines, but couldn't quite bring herself to leave the captain's seat. She listened to the main hatch open and her crew shuffle out in heavy silence. Nomi's eyes fell to the empty seat next to her, her heart freezing inside of her chest.

General Organa had prepared for their arrival. Mechanics were already repairing the damage to her ship while others escorted her crew to the med bay for examination. Nomi brushed them off, aimlessly walking down the long airstrip. Her surroundings felt like a dream.

After the crew had received medical treatment, hot showers, and food, General Organa went about finding them lodging for the night until a slightly more permanent solution could be found. The crew had retired to their quarters, but Nomi—still avoiding them—insisted on debriefing with the Resistance General that night.

"It can wait," she had insisted, resting gentle hands on Nomi's shoulders. "There's no rush—we've worked out the general series of events, and we're sure the rest of our fleet is safe—"

"No, I want to do it," Nomi insisted. Her voice didn't even sound like her own.

And so she explained their time on Anthan Prime, how they had attempted to steal a cargo of fighter jet parts in the desert and were captured in the process—how the First Order had clearly taken over in Lotta, and that there were rumors of their reach spreading across the rest of Anthan Prime. Nomi explained the interrogation procedures taking place in Lotta—the mock juries, the inquisition...

"They brought me before their leader," Nomi said, her voice dull and emotionless. She felt empty, like a droid reciting procedure. "The Knights of Ren. Apparently he's some kind of witch—he can read minds, make objects move..."

Next to her, the General's face blanched.

"When he was questioning me, the other two black horrors came into the room, with Ulas—they were arguing in Mandalorian, I couldn't make sense of it—but they said they-they killed Cal when he and Ulas tried to escape and rescue me... And then he just let us go."

"Let you go?" the dark-haired Resistance captain, Poe Dameron, asked. A crease had formed between his dark eyes. He had returned to Dantooine only moments before, and was still dressed in his orange jumpsuit. Next to him sat an orange and white droid, watching quietly. He shot a quick glance toward the General before turning his attention back to Nomi.

Nomi gave a non-committal half-shrug.

"When he questioned you…" the General said cautiously. "Did he… did he read your thoughts?"

"No," Nomi replied automatically, but then corrected herself. "Yes—sort of—" She sighed. "There's some... Lottanese or First Order Lieutenant who was hoping I knew the coordinates of this base at the time of our mission— _Ren,_ or whatever his name is, could see that I didn't know anything they didn't already, I suppose."

"He didn't torture you?" Poe asked sharply.

Nomi shook her head.

"He didn't try to find out where you were intending to take the cargo?" General Organa continued.

"No."

"How many Knights were there?"

"I saw three—the leader and two others," Nomi said slowly, brows knitting together as she thought. She took in the strange expression on General Organa's face. "Why?"

"Our intelligence states there were originally five Knights of Ren on Anthan Prime," she said heavily. "We believe they were attempting to quell the rebellion in the north, but they must have had some reason to follow you to the Tupamaros Desert."

"We didn't leave any trace," Nomi said flatly.

"It may have been coincidence," Poe suggested. "Lotta sells oil and uranium to the First Order by the thousands every week."

"And you have no other information on the leader of the Knights?"

"Like what?" Nomi asked dully.

"General…" Poe began hesitantly.

Organa turned to him sharply. "If it's true—"

"It's just a rumor," Poe interrupted. "There are a lot of rumors—"

The rest of the War Room had fallen silent to watch the exchange. Nomi was sure she was missing a vital piece of the puzzle to make sense of the conversation. In spite of her grief, she found herself following the exchange with rapt attention.

"But it's more than a rumor," the General insisted. "I can _feel_ it. Something's shifted, and we're just now getting wind of something that's been happening for months. If he's really disobeying Snoke—"

"There's nothing we can do," Poe insisted, firmly this time. Next to him, the droid beeped in agreement. "We agreed that Rey and Skywalker would take care of him when the time came—our job is to worry about the First Order."

"Perhaps the time is now," the General said stubbornly. "If we wait—"

"I know he's your son," Poe said firmly, his voice full of determined calm. The two quarrelers seemed oblivious that there were still others in the room. "But we don't have the resources—we don't have the time—even if we did, Kylo Ren wouldn't come back with us—"

"I won't abandon him—"

"What did you just say?"

Nomi's words seemed to bring Poe and General Organa back to reality. They both turned to look at her, almost surprised to discover that others were listening.

Something about the name stirred foggy memories in Nomi's mind. "Kylo Ren?" she repeated. "Isn't that… that's Snoke's second in command, isn't it?"

"That's General Hux you're thinking of," Poe replied before the General could. "Kylo Ren is the leader of the Knights of Ren, and Snoke's personal…"

"He's his apprentice," the General finished stiffly.

Nomi looked from one face to the other. "The Jedi killer," she said. The fog of grief was quickly fading from her mind. "He's your _son_?"

The General seemed to deflate a bit at that. Poe adjusted his weight uncomfortably.

" _What_?" Nomi exploded. For a moment, everything else disappeared, even the sting of Cal's death.

The General made a strong effort to set her features into a careful mask of neutrality, but there was no hiding the pain in her eyes. "Kylo Ren, who was once called Ben Solo, is my son… Most of the galaxy believes my son died the same day Luke's Academy was destroyed," the General continued, her voice wavering in spite of her best efforts. "In reality he was bewitched by Snoke, and has been under First Order control for twelve years."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Nomi roared.

"I truly didn't believe you would cross paths with him—"

"And you've pretended he was dead all this time?"

The General opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then tried again, "At the time we didn't know what to do—we thought Ben would come back, and we wanted to make sure he could do so safely—but then time just went on, and it seemed ludicrous to bring it up—"

"I'm sorry, General," Poe said adamantly, cutting through the tension. "But it's not your choice. If he decides to come back, Skywalker will deal with it then—but we can't hunt for him across the galaxy. Threat or no threat…we're beholden to the mission of the Resistance."

General Organa said heavily. She ran a shaking hand across her brow, as though aware of every set of eyes watching her closely. "We'll retire this conversation until tomorrow. It's late, and Nomi—you've had a long enough day as it is."

But now Nomi was suddenly on high alert. A million questions were buzzing through her mind, but she doubted whether the General or the Captain would give her any answers tonight.

If Kylo Ren was General Organa's son, then the entire war just became a thousand times more complicated. Taking down the First Order with a tiny band of Resistance Fighters was one dream, but somehow rescuing General Organa's estranged and Dark-side son in the process? It would take an absolute miracle.

Nomi was certain it would take an army of Jedi to come close to the General's mission.

* * *

Two full days had passed, and there was still no more word from the Supreme Leader. While the anticipation was hardly desirable, Ren was grateful for the time apart. He didn't think himself capable of hiding his murderous thoughts from Snoke.

Ren spent the time hiding in his personal chambers, sitting in his meditation room and glaring at the warped mask of Darth Vader on the far side. He had spent almost half his life communing with the ghost of his grandfather, practically worshipping his legacy, but as Ren stared at it now, he couldn't fight the feeling that it was all false. If he didn't know better, he might even believe that Darth Vader himself was an apparition or a fairy tale.

There was no guidance to seek from a smokescreen. He was missing something, that much Ren knew—something neither Snoke nor Luke had shared with him.

Ren thought of his first and only memories of his grandfather—nighttime visions during his childhood. Luke had been the one to tell him about Force ghosts, but Ren's memory of Darth Vader resembled very little of Luke's description of Obi-wan Kenobi. Snoke had explained away the difference as being the result of the Light and Dark, but then Snoke had also said killing his father would bring Ren strength.

He hadn't eaten since arriving to the Finalizer, and had barely been able to sleep. A permanent state of nausea seemed to course through him every time Ren thought about returning to his official duties. No one had seen him in two days. There were probably wild rumors circulating through the First Order that Snoke had executed him.

Ren didn't care.

He stood up and made his way stiffly to the refresher. The harsh lighting set his pale face into a stark contrast of shadows, giving his scar the appearance of being even more disfiguring. Ren's eyes fell to the dark bruising around his throat, the vivid remainders of Snoke's anger. It was certainly gruesome, he thought darkly. Ren ran a fingertip over it gingerly, wincing. He supposed if he meditated long enough, he could expedite the healing.

The water recycling system was down for maintenance, which meant instead of a hot shower Ren would have to find something else to do. Quiet meditation seemed like a joke, and so Ren settled for an afternoon in the training room. He briefly considered donning his full uniform to hide his injuries, but then decided against it. He looked more terrifying this way, and terror kept the Stormtroopers from bothering him.

This overwhelming feeling of betrayal was eating at him. Ren had no working memory of anger this strong before, and he was surprised it hadn't burst out from under his skin. Around him, the Force seemed to be in a perpetual state of electricity that threatened to explode. The usual cacophony of noise in Ren's head seemed louder, more persistent, each voice demanding to be heard above all the others. Ren had mastered shutting out this downside of his powers, but now it was slipping. The thoughts that didn't belong to him were slithering in through the cracks in his mental walls, filling his tired mind with inane streams of consciousness and thoughts about the mundane day to day activities of the Stormtroopers. He had to make a conscious effort to push it out just to be able to think his own thoughts.

Ren was too distracted to realize that there was another presence in the passageway, an unpleasantly familiar redhead rounding the corner just as Ren did. Both men froze in their tracks.

Ren sighed in exasperation.

"You ought to hide on your own time," Hux sniffed. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Obviously not very well," Ren snapped hoarsely. His throat was still raw from Snoke's attack. "Why?"

"Believe me, it was not my choice," Hux replied, his pale eyes taking in the sliver of bruising that peeked out over Ren's collar. "I have orders from Supreme Leader."

"Great," Ren replied unenthusiastically. He continued walking away, but Hux followed.

"I'm not done," the General continued, irritation evident in his voice. "I have been told in no uncertain terms to bring you to the Communications Chamber immediately."

Ren came to a halt, turning to face Hux directly. His dark eyes flashed. "Do you think you can make me?" he tested.

Hux's pale eyes narrowed, disdain breaking through his careful mask of professionalism. "Are you threatening me, Ren?" he asked quietly.

"Snoke ought to send someone more intimidating."

"Like the Scavenger?" he bit back. "You realize you owe your life to me."

Ren's cold gaze lingered on the General for a split second longer before he turned on his heel wordlessly.

"You ought not to disregard such clear orders, Ren," Hux called after him. "Unless, of course, you want the Supreme Leader to rip out your throat instead of merely crushing it."

Something snapped in Ren's fragile patience at that. Before he was aware of doing it, he had a hand raised in Hux's direction. The General was thrown off his feet, landing hard on the metal floor several meters away. To his credit, Hux's instincts were on point, and he had his side Blaster aimed and fired in less than two seconds.

Ren stopped the bright blue bolt in midair. The act seemed effortless, almost second nature. Slowly, his eyes narrowing with pure contempt, Ren pushed the bolt against its trajectory and backwards toward Hux. The General lay frozen on the floor, watching with wide eyes as the bolt meant to maim Ren slid back toward him. The lights around them flickered, and Ren felt his hair standing on end from the electricity in the air.

He hadn't planned any of this, but now that Ren had Hux on the floor, it was sorely tempting to make him the target of his wrath. The man was more than a constant irritation. He took sadistic pleasure in making Ren out to be a fool, and the Supreme Leader took it all in without question. It would be almost effortless to kill him now, and the temptation of sick release was overwhelming. Ren pushed the bolt until it was inches from Hux's chest, allowing it to hover before stepping sideways and letting it go. The bolt, released from its hold, shot forward and exploded in a shower of sparks and pent up energy on the ship's wall. Several lights went out, and the computer system beeped in alarm.

Hux scrambled to his feet, taking several steps back from Ren. His face was a mix of fear and hatred. It radiated off him in waves, filling Ren like a gas and obstructing his lungs. Ren pushed against the invisible invasion of emotions, steeling himself behind a mental wall. Instead of irritating him, Ren found a twisted sense of calm in the other man's violent weakness.

"Are you going to tell on me, Hux?" he taunted.

"Careful, Ren," Hux warned him coldly, standing up straight and tugging on the hem of his coat. "Snoke already thinks you're getting above yourself, and childish games won't earn you his favor."

He didn't care. The anger had finally cracked him, taking away all sense of decorum and filling Ren with unfettered, reckless abandon.

"You're just a pawn," Ren told him waspishly. "Nothing more than an irritating mouthpiece for Snoke. The most useful thing you've accomplished has been turning out Stormtroopers for cannon fodder, and even then they still managed to commit treason."

"I'm a decorated General with over twenty years of service, from a family of loyalists," Hux bit back. He jabbed a finger toward his chest. "Top of my class, several military commendations, and the youngest loyalist to achieve the status of General." A sneer swept across his face. "And you?" he challenged, looking Ren up and down. "Just an arrogant, unstable whelp who can barely control his own witchcraft. What use do you think you serve to the Supreme Leader? What could you possibly accomplish that the First Order or Snoke could not better do without you?"

Ren opened his mouth to retort, but a new figure joined them suddenly, appearing from an adjacent corridor. Ren's mind was such a jumbled mess that he didn't sense anyone coming.

"Sirs," came Captain Phasma's voice from under her suit of chrome armor. "I have been instructed to advise you that the Supreme Leader is awaiting your presence in the Communications Chamber."

"Ren was just leaving," Hux replied stiffly, shooting Ren a murderous look.

Ren resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he swept past Hux and Captain Phasma toward the Communications Chamber. He could feel Phasma's quiet alarm and Hux's pulsating disdain swirling around in the forefront of his mind. Despite his best efforts, his insolence was quickly fading into the familiar weight of fear.

Snoke's hologram was waiting for him. Though his image was merely a projection, Snoke's irritation was palpable.

Dangerously, Ren almost found he didn't care.

"You must have been kept busy," the Supreme Leader began, eyes narrowed as he peered down at his student. "Why else would you be late to my summons?"

"Why not summon me through the Force?" Ren asked boldly.

"Because you have kept me out," Snoke replied coolly. "Your mental walls are something to be desired."

Ren didn't reply. If anything, he felt his defenses were weaker than ever. Even now, faintly, he could hear the technicians in the next room conversing in the back of his head.

"I have a mission for you," Snoke continued, more neutrally this time. "A conference with the Republic regarding trade sanctions and lifting the embargo on the sharing of intergalactic intelligence. You made it clear to me that you tire of your role as enforcer, so perhaps you might find your talents better suited to negotiations."

Ren felt his eyebrows rise at that. "Politics?" he asked with disdain.

"You've gotten as far as you can come," Snoke replied, his voice heavy with unspoken weariness. "It is time for a new direction. But all that is irrelevant—your abilities in persuasion and perception are unmatched. There will be no agreement with the Republic unless they renounce the terroristic Rebellion and the Last Jedi. That is a direct order. You will see that it happens."

Ren inwardly sighed. The idea of politics has always irritated him, but it was certainly better than spreading more bloodshed. He took a steadying breath, resisting the impulse to let his feelings slip. Without his mask, there was no protective barrier guarding his emotions. "Very well," he said stiffly. "When am I to go?"

"Immediately," Snoke replied. "Your ship is ready. You will not be taking your personal shuttle—instead you will go in one of the new class of Lambda Imperial ships. You are to keep your identity to yourself—many will recognize you regardless, but do not let your reputation as the Jedi Killer interfere."

The slight struck a nerve. "And the Scavenger?" Ren asked without preamble. "How do you plan to seek her out?"

Snoke bristled at that. A tension settled between them. For a moment, the Supreme Leader looked as though he might materialize and attack Ren once more, but he took a steadying breath and instead, replied, "In all due time, Kylo Ren."

Then, without further word, the hologram flickered and died.

* * *

Rey hadn't seen General Organa since the intense arrival of _Rogue One,_ and so Rey wandered the base aimlessly, itching to feel useful. The rescue mission was cancelled, the fighters put on hold, ready to receive new orders. Rey was readying herself to retire for the night when she caught a familiar figure walking toward her outside the mess hall.

Without thinking, Rey bolted forward, throwing her arms around her old friend. "When did you get back?" Rey demanded excitedly.

"Just a few moments ago," Finn replied, breathless from the sudden weight against his chest. He returned the embrace just as strongly for a brief moment before peeling himself away from Rey to get a better look at her. The two friends stood in awe of each other, neither quite knowing how to begin. They looked each other up and down, each impressed with the other.

"What have you been—"

"How's Jedi training-?"

"—these secret missions?"

Rey grinned, almost breathless with excitement. "Jedi training… I still can't quite believe it—I'm nowhere near as good as Master Luke, but—"

"Luke Skywalker," Finn repeated in awe. He laughed, shaking his head. "I still can't believe you're actually training with that old legend."

"But how are you doing?" Rey asked earnestly, reaching a hand toward Finn's shoulder. "The last time I saw you…" she hesitated. "It takes so long to get messages out to the Jedi temple—by the time I heard you were healed, you'd already gone on a mission for the Resistance. A _real_ Resistance fighter," she added, grinning.

"I feel great," Finn said. His brow furrowed in thought for a moment. "Er…yeah. No, whatever they did to me worked like a charm. I've got a robotic spine," he added, almost proudly. "It took some getting used to," he added, stretching his shoulders unconsciously. "But I hardly notice it now."

"Well, it definitely seems to be working in your favor," Rey added, taking in Finn's muscular physique. "Is all this," she asked, gesturing from Finn's head to his feet. "er, part of the recovery?"

"Something like that," Finn replied with a crooked smile.

The pair took turns trading stories and asking questions, filling each other in on their lives in the last three months. Finn was particularly anxious to hear all about Luke Skywalker, while Rey wanted to know about Finn's secret missions with Poe for the Resistance. They were huddled above the tarmac, watching the sky fade into gradually paler levels of blue before the sun erupted on the horizon, flooding the sky with brilliant shades of pink.

"Mostly we've been working as cover for Recon," Finn said, shrugging. "You know, like watching over reconnaissance ships and stuff. They've been gathering as much information as they can about what the First Order's doing—I know the location of some of their other bases, so I've been able to give the General a few ideas of where to look."

"What are they doing?" Rey asked eagerly.

Finn's expression hardened. "Most of what we found was evidence that the First Order's tightening their hold on the Outer Rim and trying to put pressure on the Neutral Territories. The First Order doesn't want to terrorize them outright with violence, but every government will cave when its people are starving. The Order's discovered that trade embargos are just as efficient as bombs. And the Republic really hasn't said one thing or another—they're furious about the attack, but they also know they don't have the military or resources to take on the First Order."

"So why don't they partner with the Resistance?" Rey asked.

Finn shrugged. "Poe and I went to a few meetings with the Republic. They don't respect the Resistance," he explained dully. "They all think General Organa's lost her mind. They don't care for the First Order either, and they're still trying to get away with choosing neither. But all these fights have broken out across the galaxy—they can't stay neutral forever."

Rey swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. She was suddenly overcome with the guilt that while her friends risked their lives to protect others, she was hidden safely away to meditate and ruminate on her connection to the Force.

"Take me with you."

Finn turned to her in surprise. "What?"

"I want to go," Rey insisted. "On your next mission. I want to help."

Finn looked dubious. "Aren't you supposed to finish your training with Skywalker?"

Rey sighed. "That doesn't seem as important—"

"Are you kidding?" Finn interrupted, turning to face her. "Rey—you could be a _Jedi_. You could bring them back! That's more important than anything else the rest of us are doing. The First Order's already got their own Dark Force-user—the Resistance _needs_ a Jedi."

"But it'll take years—ten years, maybe even twenty—before I'm anywhere near the level of a Jedi," Rey rushed to say, frowning. "The fight isn't going to wait around—if war's coming, then I want to help."

Finn opened his mouth to reply, but hesitated. He shut it, shaking his head. "I don't know," he finally said. He shrugged. "That's not my decision to make. You'll have to take that up with General Organa and Skywalker."

"But you'll take me with you?" Rey insisted. "You promise?"

Finn caved. He gave her a sharp look before sighing. "All right, yeah, I promise."

Rey's face split into a wide grin.

"But this is all your idea," Finn added sternly. "If the General comes after me—"

But Rey was too overcome with relief to dwell on abandoning her Jedi training. There were far too many unanswered questions for Rey to spend another three months on Ach-to twenty times over, meditating on the Force and practicing self-control. She was grateful to Luke, but she couldn't deny that something unseen—whether it was the Force or her own stubbornness—was pulling her toward the Resistance and the heart of battle.


	9. All in Your Head

**Invisible Light**

Chapter Nine

* * *

Ren awoke with a start, head pounding. He reached out through the Force to assess his bearings, unable to make sense of it. An uninhabited planet, an escape pod… when had he needed an escape pod? Ren tried to unbuckle himself, forcing his stiff arms to cooperate. His left hand was useless: bloodstained and swollen, it was a mess of broken bone and gashes. The harsh scent of iron invaded his senses. A headache was beating against his skull, making it almost impossible to focus. Ren reached over his head toward the escape hatch with his good hand, but it was stuck.

 _Kriff._

He turned his hand to a fist, pounding in the tempered glass door until it finally gave way. Ren climbed out slowly, stiffly, fighting against the sharp pain in his head as he moved to take in his surroundings. He slid ungraciously out of the pod, landing hard on his injured side. Ren swore under his breath, stiffly turning over until his back was to the pod.

It was nothing but grey rocky desert for miles, jagged and empty. Ren got to his feet, his good hand gingerly clutching his side while he held the other uselessly at his side. A cool breeze rustled through his hair, and his parachute flapped quietly, still attached to the escape pod. In the distance dark clouds churned, threatening rainfall. Ren tried to reach out through the Force, to find any sign of life on the barren planet, but there was nothing as far as he could see.

He was alone.

Ren reached back inside the escape pod, snatching the radio. He tried the dials, jabbing buttons, but there was no signal. Frustrated, Ren threw the receiver and leaned against the chair, sighing. He shut his eyes, willing his brain to focus, to remember how he had gotten here, but there was nothing. Just a strange, silent emptiness. It was as though a vital piece of his memory had been cut from his mind. The quiet was unnerving.

Ren searched through the emergency supply box in the back of the escape pod, rifling through the equipment: blankets, powdered rations, water filters, fire starters… nothing of use for Ren to get himself off this planet. The emergency radio was distinctly missing. He slammed the lid shut, a strange sense of unease taking over. Something didn't feel right.

Ren climbed out of the pod and looked around once again. Lightning flashed in the distance, and the air was warm and electric. He had no recollection of this planet, no memory of why he was there at all. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to push past the rising panic and focus. He tried to reach out to Snoke, to the familiar connection he had grown to rely on, but even that was quiet.

As Ren walked, his hand instinctively went to his hip, toward his weapon, but nothing was there. Ren froze, searching his person for his lightsaber. Finding nothing, he ran back toward the escape pod. He tore everything out, but knew in the back of his mind that he wouldn't find it.

Ren never went anywhere without his weapon. The habit had been drilled into him by both Luke Skywalker and the Supreme Leader. The only explanation that fit was that someone had taken it from him.

And banished him to an empty planet with no escape, severing any connection Ren had to another living being.

Panic and anger surged through Ren, rising into his throat and threatening to spill over. Unlike the red hot anger Ren had known his whole life, the same anger that had fueled his journey into the Dark side, this came from the secret holes inside of him. It was heavy with the weight of abandonment, threatening to swallow him whole. Though he had no working memory of it, Ren instantly knew what had happened to him. There was only one possible explanation for the missing weapon, the backwater planet, and the empty silence in his mind.

Snoke had done this to him.

The pod was suddenly launched across the rocky desert, groaning as it soared through the air and crashing several meters away. Fueled by self-loathing and rejection, Ren reached out to the Force and picked it up again, this time throwing it further. The windshield on the pod shattered on impact and the reinforced door caved in. Ren clenched his fists and an invisible force crushed the pod, warping metal and driving it deep into the ground. His anger was suffocating.

Ren screamed with rage, unable to stand it, unable to endure the emptiness in his bones and the self-loathing that coursed through him. He hated Snoke—he hated the Supreme Leader for abandoning him, for casting him aside so easily. But as furious and full of loathing as Ren was, he hated himself more. He had allowed Snoke to warp his mind, to give up everything and be turned into a monster, only to be cast aside like an unwanted toy. Ren had sacrificed everything for Snoke, and the Supreme Leader still rejected him. Ren had no home, no allegiance, and no family. Even his humanity was gone. Without Snoke guiding his thoughts and manipulating his emotions, Ren's senses were truly alive for the first time.

Ren sank into the ground, consumed with horror and utterly defeated. A suffocating weight was building in his chest, a buzzing coursing in the back of his mind.

He was alone, now more than ever.

* * *

"Don't be discouraged," Luke told her as Rey peeled herself off the ground. "I fared far worse when training alone."

Rey sighed exasperatedly, frustrated with herself. She had returned to Ach-to just that morning, albeit reluctantly. "I just feel like I should be so much better than this. I'm out there," she added, gesturing to the sky. "fighting, and it's like I'm just playing pretend with the Force."

"It's all in your head," Luke reminded her. "Have you been—"

"Meditating, yeah, I know."

"Successful meditation requires that you shut the world out and let only the Force in," Luke told her. "It is an exercise in patience every day." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Are you still having your dreams?"

"Huh?" Rey replied distractedly. She brushed her hands on her pants and settled herself back into place, balancing precariously on a narrow beam. "Er, yeah. Not quite like before. In fact, I haven't felt Ky—Ben in my head for days. It's like he's just disappeared from the universe."

Luke was uncharacteristically silent at that. Rey looked up from her folded hands to stare at her teacher. She straightened up on the beam, standing at ease. " _Has_ he disappeared?"

"It is difficult to say," Luke replied evasively. "His presence in the Force is…murky."

Rey frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It's no matter," Luke replied, gesturing that Rey should continue her exercise. "I will let you focus on the task at hand."

Rey lit her practice lightsaber, trying to fight the bitter disappointment that it wasn't a proper one.

"Have you given any thought to my question?"

"Which one?" Rey asked, wracking her brain for what she had forgotten.

"What is your greatest fear?"

"Oh."

Luke waited patiently.

"I don't know yet," Rey replied as a non-answer to disguise the fact that she really _had_ forgotten all about it.

"Well, what comes to mind?"

Rey thought. "Being alone on Jakku forever," she said flatly, her face taking on a faraway expression. "These…dreams I've been having. About my family."

"Abandonment," Luke observed. "The fear that you have both been abandoned and have left your family behind."

Rey turned to look at Luke, the lightsaber forgotten in her hand. "There's a dark voice that follows me… tempting me. I know right know that it's the Dark, but when it happens, it's like… nothing else matters."

Luke pursed his lips in thought. "Meditate on it. Let me know when you have your answer."

Rey had spent two weeks with the Resistance, repairing fighter ships and watching on in jealousy as her friends went about their missions. General Organa was adamant Rey complete more of her training before she was willing to let her do anything more dangerous than replace a battered fuel cell. Rey had never imagined herself to feel disappointed about returning to Ahch-to, but did her best to disguise it from Master Luke.

Master Luke himself seemed just as distracted. He would disappear for long stretches of time, leaving Rey to practice her forms and meditate alone.

Days went by, then weeks, and before Rey knew it, almost half a year had passed since the events that first took her away from Jakku. The creeping sensation that had plagued her for months—the feeling that Kylo Ren could see inside her mind—had been absent for weeks, replaced instead by the same series of odd dreams—dreams of a nameless planet burning, of a dark shadow following her across the galaxy.

Eventually General Organa had allowed Rey to accompany Resistance fighters on recovery missions one week for every three that she trained with Luke; this meant very little chance of actual danger, which seemed to be a prerequisite for the General allowing Rey anywhere. Rey's job was to help scavenge damaged ship parts—First Order, Resistance, smuggler, and neutral—and repair what she could. Usually the parts were already collected and hauled into a designated pick-up area by an HTV or sandcrawler, but once in a while the crew was pressed for time and picked up vital parts in a fresh battlefield.

Rey had been matched up with the crew of _Rogue One,_ whose captain was a cold and quiet woman. The crew carried an odd weight about them, and it wasn't until they had completed half a dozen missions together that Rey finally learned their First Mate had been killed in a mission gone awry in Anthan Prime not long ago.

Rey tried to steel herself against the overwhelming weight the destruction of war brought, but she found she was less convincing than Finn, who had spent a lifetime schooling his emotions. She was unable to stop herself from picturing the faces of the Resistance members shot down on missions, and never got used to the suffocating smell of iron that accompanied bloodshed. When she closed her eyes at night, she wasn't sure if the scenes of battle were her own memories or those of Kylo Ren.

Several times Rey accompanied Nomi Sisk and the crew of _Rogue One_ to pick up black market supplies from Outer Rim territories, and even talked Chewbacca into allowing her to co-pilot the _Falcon_ on similar journeys. It was becoming more and more dangerous to fly into the Outer Rim as the influence of the First Order continued to spread, but the Resistance always managed to keep its head just above water.

Eventually _Rogue One_ was scheduled to travel to Takodana, a mission that simultaneously excited and terrified Rey. She wanted to see Maz again, but she couldn't fight the memories of her first and only trip to the neutral planet.

Their ship was fueled and ready, and Nomi Sisk had even allowed Rey to sit in as co-pilot. For the first time since she had known her, Rey could sense a weight lifting on the Captain's shoulders, and her excitement about returning to Takodana was infectious.

Maz's old castle had been destroyed by the First Order months before, but she had taken up residence in a new establishment carved into a mountain face on the other side of the expansive lake. It seemed like a lifetime had passed; Maz's new fortress was buzzing with the usual activity among smugglers and travelers. _Rogue One_ hardly had time to socialize once landing, however—they had several negotiations scheduled with other smugglers operating in the Neutral Territories. Nomi took the lead on this one while Rey and the others waited in the background, catching up on news in the galaxy and otherwise killing time.

Eventually night fell, and while Rey was perfectly content to retire for the evening, the bar was suddenly alive with music and chatter. The crew helped themselves to dinner and the infamous _elba,_ allowing themselves to relax for the first time in weeks. Rey was just about to separate herself from the fun when Nomi led her by the elbow toward the main dining area.

"Don't tell me you're tired already," the Captain told her, a small smirk playing around her lips.

"I'm exhausted," Rey admitted, though she allowed herself to be led back into the cacophony.

Nomi pulled out a chair at a corner table and gestured for Rey to sit before taking a place next to her. "Maz wants to catch up a little," she told Rey, just loud enough to be heard over the general chatter of the pub.

Rey—who hadn't seen a single familiar face all day aside from the crew—perked up a little.

Suddenly a tray was set down roughly between them, and tiny hands shoved it toward the center of the table. Nomi steadied the decanter of _elba_ while Rey turned to see a familiar short figure take a seat across from them.

"What a day," Maz muttered, more to herself than to them. She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I take it your business has been successful," she added, looking toward Nomi.

"For the most part," she replied, half shrugging as she poured everyone a cup. "The General should be pleased."

Maz readjusted her lenses and turned to look at Rey, who couldn't help but feel oddly childlike under her scrutinizing gaze. "And you!" Maz declared, gesturing openly at Rey. "How is that lightsaber?"

"Uh, well, Luke has it," Rey said sheepishly. "He's training me, though, so maybe one day—"

"Why does Luke have it?" Maz interrupted.

Rey hesitated. Nomi looked between the two women with interest. "Er, well it's his, and—"

"That lightsaber called to _you,_ " Maz declared.

"Well—I mean—I've hardly trained enough to count as a Padawan," Rey said quickly, feeling herself blush. "I don't think I'm experienced enough—"

"Even though you fought Kylo Ren with it?" Nomi brought up, eyebrows raised. "I'm pretty sure you're strong enough—"

"But not trained," Rey said firmly. She felt oddly protective of Luke's style of teaching, even though she herself often questioned his methods. "Not enough."

"That lightsaber has seen two rightful masters," Maz said slowly. "Anakin Skywalker, and then his son, Luke. And many more hands have watched over it since, but none who could rightfully claim it. Until you."

Rey hesitated, frowning. She looked between Nomi and Maz, who were both watching her with interest. "But why me?"

Maz hesitated. "Sometimes they just know," she said cryptically. "A lightsaber is a very special weapon, amplifying the powers of a Force-user. A vessel, so to speak, capable of great deeds or incredible destruction. That particular lightsaber was built by Anakin before he became Darth Vader."

"So shouldn't it call to Luke? Or even Kylo Ren?" Rey asked, almost repulsed by this knowledge.

"Well, you know that Vader was the Chosen One, right?" Nomi piped up.

Rey looked at her dumbly. "The what?"

"The legend… the origin of the Jedi, the Chosen One brings balance to the force," Nomi said, watching Rey's reaction carefully. "You've never heard of it?"

"Like I said, I've barely started my training," Rey mumbled, uncomfortable with her own ignorance.

"It's… a very old story," Maz finally said. "The oldest in the galaxy, about the origin of the Dark side and the Light, the Sith and the Jedi."

Rey leaned forward, her full attention on Maz, who seemed reluctant to give it away. Nomi took a steady sip of her wine, watching the older woman intently.

"The Old Legends say that there were two children who lived alone on an island, surrounded by a vast ocean," Maz began. "On that island was a tree, and the tree gave them life. As the children grew older, they realized that the tree gave them strange powers—powers to read thoughts, heal wounds, control beasts of land and sea, and move objects... Eventually others heard of these two children; first people came from the other islands, and then from all over the galaxy, to see them…

"Now, the children had discovered there were two ways to access these powers—the Light and the Dark," she continued. "The child of Light gained strength and intuition, but became cold. The child of Dark gained focus, but also anger. The children kept their secret of the tree, returning to it each night to reconnect to the Force. In time the children argued which path made them stronger, and during one of those arguments, the child of Darkness killed his brother. He was horrified by what he had done, and buried the other child at the foot of the tree. He left the island, overcome with the power of the Dark side.

But the child of Light, buried at the roots, became one with the tree, and gained life once more. He was transformed, and spoke to the people who came to mourn his grave... He warned that the powers given to them could be used for good or evil, and that all who would touch the tree would gain knowledge of the Force." Maz took a steading breath, then added, "These early Force-users were the first Jedi. They believed that the souls of both boys would die and be reborn in different lifetimes—different genders, races, languages—and each would push against the other, locked in an eternal battle for balance. If they ever met, one would always have to kill the other.

"Well, thousands of Jedi have been born and trained through the millennia, and the same can be said for the Dark side users. Often a practitioner is identified as the new incarnation of either the Child of Light or Darkness—the Chosen One. Many throughout the galaxy consider Darth Vader to have been the most recent Chosen One, but it is always disputed because there is no way to know for certain."

"How does anyone figure out who the Chosen One is?" Rey asked. She was leaning so far across the table that her chest was pressed against the surface, her face looking up earnestly into Maz's.

"Well, there's a few markers," Maz said heavily. "The individual obviously must be a powerful Force-user. It's also widely accepted that they must have strong potential for both Light and Dark—it gets complicated when you talk about just how much. People disagree widely there, even in the Church of the Force. And then, even deeper still, there are arguments about the Midichlorian count, family legacy, and so on."

There was a long silence as Rey took in the information. She could feel Maz watching her carefully across the table.

"This is all legend, you know," Maz reminded her sternly. "There's no proof that the tree ever existed, or that it granted Force powers. And there's certainly no real proof of a Chosen One."

"But if it's true…" Rey said slowly, brow furrowed in thought. "If Darth Vader really was the Chosen One… why does his lightsaber call to me?"

"Maybe _you're_ it," Nomi suggested, sounding half-serious. "You have to complete the prophecy and bring back the Jedi."

Rey snorted at that. "Definitely not."

"Well, the child in the story was a powerful Force-user who didn't have parents," Nomi continued, wiggling her eyebrows at Rey. "Sound familiar?"

"It's not to be taken literally," Maz said, regaining control of the conversation. "Though why Luke never told you the Jedi Origin Story is odd… As for the lightsaber, we may never know," she explained simply, waving a hand. "The Force is a mysterious thing. But it calls to you, and you alone are the rightful owner. Finish your training with Luke—you may give him the confidence he needs to bring back the Jedi. And if we're going to defeat the evil reach of the First Order, then we're going to need them."

Rey hesitated, looking between the two women. "What if… what if Luke doesn't train anyone else? What if he really is the last Jedi?"

Maz fixed her a long, knowing look, her eyes hugely magnified by her spectacles. "My child… Luke does not train you for nothing."

* * *

For days, anger and self-loathing warped Kylo Ren's mind. He fantasized about all the ways he wanted to kill Snoke, and dreamed about destroying the regime he had helped the Supreme Leader build. It was all he could think about, and Ren was sure he would go mad from it. The blinding need for revenge was the only force that kept Ren from entertaining darker thoughts of destroying himself.

Eventually the swirling rage settled heavily in Ren's chest, leaving his mind free to focus on his dire situation. With no outlet, the nagging sting of rejection ate away at the secret holes inside of Ren. He spent his days wandering the barren planet aimlessly, stopping only long enough to refuel his body through rest and food. Nights were spent gazing at the stars, trying to orient himself with familiar systems and constellations. Ren's only company in the galaxy was his own loneliness, and the passing days forced him to come to terms with his new reality.

There had been enough rations in the escape pod to last several months, yet with no means of escape from the planet, the reality of starvation was omnipresent. To keep his mind occupied, Ren reached out to the Force, pushing his boundaries further and further for signs of life. He had discovered fresh water and bitter but edible vegetation this way. While Ren could survive on such meager provisions, his body would eventually deteriorate.

The planet was a desert wasteland, a swathe of carved and jagged canyons and rocky floor. The planet had the appearance of having once been host to a powerful and turbulent ocean, but nearly all the water had disappeared. Streams changed course by the day, dictated by the ice flow that sat in the highlands miles and miles away. The sun sat low in the sky, casting long, low shadows across a spattering of ancient craters, scars from a violent past.

After the initial rush of anger had flamed out, Ren made quick work of bandaging his injured hand and collecting the few emergency supplies the Supreme Leader had been kind enough to leave him. He ripped the First Order tracking device out of his utility belt, chucking it as far as he could across the desert.

Ren soon lost track of the days—they all bled together, one constant rotation of time marked only by the rising and falling sun. He was no sooner getting off the planet than he was upon arrival. Eventually Ren made his way out of the canyons and into greener territory. Stiff grass and bare shrubbery dotted the hilly landscape as far as the eye could see. The air was much thinner at this altitude, and Ren found himself frequently short of breath as he drudged on. It wasn't long until the combined effects of low oxygen and starvation seemed to get the better of him, twisting his mind and making it difficult to think straight.

In the distance, however, was the constant lure of life: a tiny trading post, outfitted on the far side of the wasteland.

Ren was starving, dehydrated, and exhausted, but he forced himself on, driven by the same stubbornness that had allowed him to survive all of his near-miss encounters thus far in life. The fresh bruising that had formed on his ribs from the crash made it painful to breathe in the thin air; deprived of vital oxygen, Ren wondered if he was hallucinating the tiny village. The pain from his broken wrist had dulled, turning his senses into thick mud.

It was hours before Ren realized the ground underneath him was marred by tracks—transporters, ships, and footprints alike dotted the dusty surface. He felt his feet stop, his body threatening to collapse, as he looked down to study them. Their age was impossible to determine, but they all led in a single direction: forward.

With a stupendous effort, Ren picked up his feet and willed his body to keep moving forward. He made it about half a dozen meters before his balance slipped and he collapsed in the dusty ground, too tired to move.

Too tired to fight anymore.


	10. Origin Story

**Invisible Light**

Chapter Ten

* * *

Luke was waiting for Rey at the foot of the temple, seemingly immune to the frigid sea air that whipped all around them. Rey stepped onto the gravelly beach, instinctively pulling her coat closer to her throat. Behind her, the _Falcon's_ engines roared as Chewbacca brought the ship to full power.

"I'm glad you're here," Luke told her, unusually somber. "I have something to show you."

Rey's interest was piqued, though Luke's odd demeanor unsettled her. Suddenly all her stories about her last week with the Resistance were forgotten; there was only herself and Luke, locked on a tiny ocean planet floating deep in quiet space. She followed the Jedi Master wordlessly down the beach, her feet sliding against the gravel with each step. Her hair flew around her head wildly, and the late afternoon light was quickly fading behind the distant cloud cover. A storm was brewing, and would arrive to the tiny island not long after nightfall. Just as Rey considered asking where they were going, she spotted a narrow sandbar in the distance, leading to an even smaller island.

"The timing of the tide with your arrival was quite fortunate," Luke called to her over his shoulder. "It isn't much fun swimming through this ocean."

Rey glanced nervously at the sea before her; she had never been in water deeper than her shins, and didn't fancy the idea of learning to swim in the frigid waters.

Luke led Rey across the sandbar to the rocky island just as a bright ray of sunlight exploded through the dark clouds brewing in the distance. Overhead sea birds cried loudly, diving into the shallow tide pools for their evening meal. Rey had no idea what Luke could possibly be showing her, but knew better than to question him until they reached their destination.

The island's beach only extended on one side, gradually sloping up into the rocky cliffs that towered overhead. Luke led her up a narrow staircase carved into the island's surface, each step far more assured than Rey's; she clung to the damp rock wall the higher they got, terrified her footing would slip. Finally the steepness gave way to level ground, revealing a tiny meadow on the back of the sloping cliff. It was dotted with gnarled trees, though one in particular stood out to Rey immediately. It was bone-white, bleached from the salty air, and heavily twisted. The trunk was wider than any tree Rey had ever seen. It was leafless and bare, giving the impression of being little more than a petrified fossil.

Rey's eyes darted to Luke, but he had yet to explain what they were doing. He continued to lead the way and Rey followed, acutely aware of the story Maz had told her several nights ago.

Luke stopped several meters short of the white tree, examining it with quiet interest. Rey stood next to him, looking between her teacher and the tree. She could feel an odd electric charge about the air, but wasn't sure if it was due to the impending storm or some other force.

"Doubtlessly you will recall the story Maz told to you on your visit to Takodana," Luke began.

Rey's mouth opened in surprise. "How do you know about that?"

"I had intended to tell you the Origin Story myself, when the time was right," he said heavily. "But Maz is a better historian, so perhaps it was more appropriate that you learned it from her."

Her senses sharpened, a crease forming between her brow as she peered at the tree. "Is—this isn't—"

"For many lifetimes, this tree was the source of the Jedi power," Luke told her. "The temple we have been staying at was the second of its kind, erected deliberately out of sight of this little meadow. The first Jedi had incredible foresight, for the Sith erected a shrine of their own over the foundation of the temple many centuries later. You see," Luke continued, turning to look at her. " _This_ is the true site of the first Jedi Temple. Our little fortress was a smokescreen."

A million questions were burning through Rey's mind; she had no idea which to ask first.

"For years I had meditated on the Origin Story… the promise of the return of the Jedi. You see, for almost a lifetime everyone believed my father was the Chosen One, born to bring balance to the Force. I myself took stock in this version of events."

"But now…"

"His lightsaber called out to you," Luke continued. "And R2 awoke from his sleep to reveal the rest of the map to this planet, a sleep I myself programmed until the Force awakened…"

Rey's mind was electrified. "No," she insisted, shaking her head at the insinuation. "There's no way—I'm no one—"

"The Force indicates otherwise," Luke told her seriously.

Rey took a step back, looking at the white tree warily. She couldn't deny that something about it called out to her, beckoning her in.

"The issue at hand," Luke continued, running his bionic hand through his graying hair. "Is that there are two of you… two possible candidates."

The crease between Rey's eyes deepened. "Who's the other?"

Luke peered at her sideways. "You already know."

A memory flashed through her mind's eye: a dark forest, enveloped in falling snow… a dark shadow stalking her between the trees…

"You can't be serious," Rey said weakly, looking once again at the tree suspiciously before turning imploringly to her teacher.

"I attempted to bring back the Jedi, and failed," Luke said, his tone unusually firm. "It was predestined. Only the Chosen One can bring back balance to the Force—bring back the Jedi in the rush of awakening darkness. I have meditated on it for a great deal of time, consorted with many historians throughout the galaxy… it's impossible to deny it. The Force has awakened in you, and in Ben… one of you has been chosen. Or perhaps both of you. There were two souls in the Origin Story, after all."

Rey's mind was reeling. "So—so if it's _not_ me," she said, utterly convinced it wasn't. "And it's Ben… what does that mean?"

"He will bring back the Jedi," Luke replied.

This was absurd. Ben Solo had _destroyed_ the fledgling Jedi, had turned to the Dark side… "You can't be serious…" she repeated, shaking her head.

"There are only two options," Luke told her sternly, taking a step toward the tree. "Either both of you have been chosen, or one of you… either way there is a connection between you two that no other Force-user can match. The only way to discover the truth is to find Ben, and bring you both here."

Rey's ears were ringing. She felt dizzy. "Maz said it was just a legend…"

"All stories have an origin in truth… I have been studying you closer than I've let on," Luke admitted. He was now so close to the tree that he had only to reach out to touch its branches. "I had to be certain of the signs, you see, before I brought you here."

Rey turned to look at the ancient tree before her. She stepped forward cautiously, steeling herself against an unknown force. Slowly, she raised her hand, her fingertips just inches from the trunk. A faint golden light emanated from the cracks in the bark, soft and inviting. Rey had only to touch it—to reach forward and accept whatever destiny the Force had in store for her…

Rey's hand dropped to her side slowly. She turned to look at Luke, who had been studying her.

"What do I have to do?"

"Ben will not be easy to find," Luke told her later that evening. They were back at the temple—the second temple, technically—seated around a fire. "Leia says there are rumors throughout the galaxy that he has disappeared from Snoke's side. Rumors that he has turned against his Master…"

"To gain control of the First Order for himself?" Rey suggested with only the faintest hint of malice.

Luke gave her a wry smile. "You will have to let your prejudice go very soon—especially if you are to persuade him to come here."

"I hardly think it's prejudice when I watched him murder his own father."

Luke sighed at that, a dark cloud passing over his careworn face. "What can I tell you that will open your mind?"

Rey shrugged stubbornly. In truth, she didn't want to change her mind.

"If you are to bring Ben Solo to the First Jedi Temple," Luke said. "Then you must learn who he is—where he came from."

Rey's eyes flashed up to her teacher. While she was content to hate Kylo Ren for the rest of her existence, she couldn't deny that a small part of her—a very small part—was curious.

"From the very beginning, it was obvious that Ben was Force-sensitive," Luke began. His eyes softened at some distant memory. "The Jedi didn't exactly exist at this point—a child with an adult's Force abilities was unheard of. The boy could hear every thought and feel every emotion of any living being within fifty feet of himself—and he had no way to block it out. He was prone to nightmares, fits of unexplained energy or sadness, explosive rage—no one understood it. Han and Leia were terrified that the galaxy would learn of Leia's true parentage, and target Ben. Everything was kept a secret.

"Well, Leia was consumed with her role in the Senate, and Han was always gone with one job or another—what little time they spent together was tumultuous. Ben used to terrorize his tutors in an attempt to get any attention he could from his parents... he was living in their shadow; a strange boy born to war-heroes and royalty, and yet was nothing like either of them. Ben never wanted to be special—he never wanted his Force powers, to be a Jedi, or have a famous parents… I think he felt quite alone as a child.

"Well, one day he snuck away and broke into the Senate building—they were living on Coruscant at this point. Ben was determined to lure his mother away from work. Unfortunately, there was a _coup_ staged against the current senators from Lothal—the Senate building was bombed as a diversion. Leia was engaged in a private conference about a counter-strike, and a few mercenaries were hired to kidnap her. They never found Leia, but they did find her son hiding in the hallways."

Luke hesitated here. Rey was listening with rapt attention, oddly fascinated by this tale of her enemy's childhood.

"The official report is that the guerilla fighters died as a result of the bombing, despite being nowhere near the epicenter," Luke said heavily. He rubbed his brow with his mechanical hand, working away the headache that was forming. "The truth is that Ben's power overwhelmed him—he tried to run, but when his kidnappers dragged him down the hall, they were suddenly jerked away—an invisible force slammed them into a wall, and they were killed instantly… A terrible accident from powers too strong to control…"

Rey couldn't fight the horrific thought of a child killing armed adults with a single, panicked thought. How terrified that boy must have felt, desperately reaching out for anything to protect himself, and killing someone in the process… his lifeline a murder weapon… Rey shivered, snapping back to her senses. She forced the surge of sympathy to the back of her mind.

"Ben was sent to me the next morning. Leia was concerned that Ben's power would overwhelm him again, but all Ben saw was punishment. He was already afraid of himself, and now he believed his mother was afraid of him, too. Han was furious with Leia—he blamed her partly for what had happened. He had no intention of sending Ben away, but he was scared of ruining his son somehow, so he just stayed away…"

 _He would have disappointed you…_

The words echoed softly in the forefront of Rey's mind, passing through her thoughts with delicate ease. "So he thought he had been abandoned."

"Eventually Ben saw Jedi training as enjoyable, rather than punishment," Luke continued. "He was extremely gifted, though nothing could be done about his nightmares. He barely managed to keep the voices blocked out long enough to focus on his studies. He was an outcast at first, but soon became very popular among the other students for his talent and famous name. Despite his success, a dark shadow always seemed to linger near him… and his Force powers, strangely, always seemed to bend precariously back toward the edge of the Dark side. We thought, perhaps, it was a lingering effect of his accident—trauma. None of us dared to even think it was the lure of the Dark Side, too afraid to discover it might be true… But it was never going to let him go…"

"And his parents?"

Luke hesitated. "They… hadn't changed much. There was talk of divorce, but each was too busy to actually draw it up. Han was involved in a new intergalactic trade route while Leia was running for re-election. They were confident their son was growing into his own, so to speak. They checked in from time to time, as all parents did, but Ben was driven from an overwhelming urge to impress them—to earn his birthright. Leia always cautioned him, which will drive any teenager mad, and Han just avoided the topic altogether… Ben especially wanted to impress his father, but the Force was just something Han didn't understand. He loved Ben, and was immensely proud of him, but he… he was Han," Luke added with a low chuckle. "He didn't know how to show it. He would tease to demonstrate affection, but his son didn't have his thick skin, and so Ben was convinced Han was embarrassed of him."

Luke fell silent for a moment, lost in some distant memory that hardened his features. When he spoke, it was in a voice much cooler than Rey was used to hearing. "When he was about sixteen, Ben learned through the other students that Anakin Skywalker—grandfather, famous Jedi, and harbinger of the Light—was actually Darth Vader. Leia's enemies in the Senate leaked the information in an attempt to discredit her—she was already unpopular with her warnings about the First Order... Suddenly everyone turned on Ben—his friends shunned him, whispered things like 'Dark Lord' behind his back, and accused him of being a Sith. They insisted Ben wasn't actually as talented as he was, that I was playing favorites because he was my nephew… But Leia refused to let him quit his training, and Han…didn't know what to do. Ben felt rejected all over again. He refused to listen to my guidance, afraid it really was just me playing favorites. I should have insisted…" his voice trailed off.

"So that's when he…" Rey said hesitantly, eager to hear the rest of the story.

"To understand Ben, you need to know about his Master," Luke said darkly. "Snoke was a member of the Senate during the time of the Clone Wars—an advisor to Emperor Palpatine, he knew my parents, and later my sister. He had a devoted interest in the First Order, and an even stronger one in Ben. It wasn't unusual for… patrons…to take an invested curiosity in protégés. The galaxy was in a state of post-war, scrambling to gain the upper hand. None of us realized just how invested Snoke was until Ben was gone—he had been in the shadows for years, possibly since Ben was very young. Ben was lonely and desperate for affection from his absent parents, and had begun to see Snoke as a sort of stand-in—someone who understood him and the darkness that warred inside him. In time, Ben trusted Snoke more and more, and Snoke manipulated that trust to ensure the Dark side was always just on the precipice of Ben's mind—and when he was rejected all over again, I imagine it was very easy for Snoke to take advantage of that."

There was a long silence following Luke's story. Rey's mind was swimming, transfixed by the tale of a young Ben Solo. Though her hatred still flared white hot, something like sympathy creeped into her heart when she thought of him.

"But why did he stay?" Rey finally asked, breaking the silence.

Luke gave her a strange look. "You would know better than I."

Rey was affronted. It must have showed on her face, because then Luke said, "You've seen into his mind… what did you find when you reversed his interrogation tactic on him?"

 _You're afraid._

"I think I should go to bed," Rey muttered lamely, getting to her feet.

"A welcome idea," Luke agreed, following suit. "We can discuss our plan in the morning, when we've had time to recharge."

The storm had arrived in full force—rain pelted the temple with relentless force, lightning frequently flashing through the windows. Rey lay wide awake in her private quarters, staring at the ceiling. She knew she should trust Luke—there was absolutely no reason not to—but a part of her, a vital part, was screaming at her to reconsider searching for Kylo Ren.

For months, a dark shadow tempted her with dreams of revenge; dreams so powerful that nothing else mattered, even the call to the Light. If faced with Kylo Ren once more, Rey wasn't sure she would be able to control the deep and dark desire.

* * *

Ren awoke slowly, his sluggish brain trying to kickstart itself back into activity. He blinked several times trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. He rolled his side slowly, stiffly, taking in his surroundings with a frown.

The room was dim and cramped; dingy drapes hung from the rafters, surrounding Ren and partitioning off his little cot. There were dulled voices on the other side of the room, chatting inanely in some obscure tongue. Further out, toward the village, was the commotion of a mid-afternoon at the market.

Ren lifted his heavy shoulders, swinging his feet to the floor carefully. His boots and heavier layers had been removed, piled neatly on a lopsided table nearby. Each stretch of muscle took a conscious effort. While his body protested the movement, Ren's mind was sharpening by the second, assessing his surroundings and analyzing for potential threats. Ren reached for his belongings, pulling his muddy boots on with great difficulty. His broken wrist was heavily bandaged, rendering his hand completely useless, but at least it didn't have the same distracting ache.

It was easy enough to slip out unnoticed when Ren could hear the thoughts of everyone around him. He passed other curtained-off rooms, dingy quarters that housed the sick and otherwise injured. His footsteps were silent, and he slid through the careworn hospital like a dark shadow, swift and unnoticed.

The world outside was much brighter, full of travelers trading goods, sharing news, and dropping off stolen shipments. It was clearly a pirate's trading post, a planet full of scavengers and thieves. The bustling activity churned, free swim in and out of his head with nothing to stop it, no dark walls to dictate what surfaced to the forefront of Ren's mind.

Was this how it felt to finally be alone in his own head? To exist without claws in his mind, guiding him blindly down a singular path?

Ren gathered his wits about himself, walking carefully through the crowds with his head down and injured hand tucked carefully against his chest, trying to remain unworthy of much notice. He wasn't sure if his paranoid was justified, but he couldn't fight the creeping sensation that someone—or something—was following him through the narrow streets. He needed to get off the main road, as he was too easily to follow.

Making up his mind quickly, Ren slipped into a dim doorway, stepping foot into a quiet pub. The barman and the regulars all turned to stare at Ren in quiet suspicion; Ren was acutely aware of the number of blasters in the room, and wondered how many he could take down with just the Force. He set his face into a careful mask of indifference and approached the bar.

"You got a 'fresher?"

The barman glanced in the far corner of the room. "The back, there."

"Paying customers only," grunted the patron closest to Ren.

Ren turned to look at him slowly, his eyes traveling over the Keshian. The man's oversized eyes were protected by grimy pilot's goggles, and a gleaming blaster pistol was holstered against his side. Ren was in dire need of a weapon and was tempted to take it, but it wouldn't do to cause so much commotion already. Instead Ren settled for fixing the traveler an icy look before slipping away from the bar, acutely aware of everyone watching him.

Once in the shadows, Ren passed the door that led to the 'fresher, choosing instead to make his way through the bustling and smoky kitchen and out the back door. The alleyway was narrow and cramped, littered with ancient waste receptacles and wires that criss-crossed in every direction between the towering buildings. Ren made his way carefully over the uneven path, stepping over exposed plumbing and aggressive-looking gutter Borcatu scurrying between the garbage.

The alley twisted sharply between buildings; once or twice Ren came to a dead end and had to climb over walls and up fire escapes toward the rooftops. The creeping feeling that he was being followed had increased, and Ren moved with more urgency. He slipped over gutter lines and darted across the narrow spines of the roofs, a task made far more irritating and arduous with his injuries. He was careful to keep low, zig-zagging and backtracking in an attempt to throw off his tracker. Ren slid down a rusted gutter pipe back toward the street surface, close enough to the shipyard that he could hear the engines roaring into life.

Stealing someone else's ship was one of the worst offenses in the galaxy, but Ren didn't have time to worry about that—he needed to get off this junk of a planet, and quickly.

Getting to the shipyard meant traversing the main road of the market for almost five-hundred feet, totally exposed. Ren grabbed the nearest garment to cloak himself—a well-worn utility coat about a size too big—and joined the crowds bustling through the road. It was much harder to tell if he was still being followed out here—there were too many voices to sort through—but Ren hoped that it was equally difficult for his tracker to find him in the chaos. Merchants selling fabrics, foreign foods, strange animals and contraband goods lined the street, were shouting into the crowds in half a dozen different languages.

Almost at the gate that led out of the confines of the market, Ren was sure he had finally lost his tracker. He fought the urge to quicken his pace; he need only make one more sharp turn before he reached the shipyard—

An armed, dark figure suddenly appeared before him. Ren reached out with the Force, his instincts reacting faster than his conscious mind could process who stood before him.

"Easy, Kylo!"

Darin's voice.

Ren searched the periphery of the Knight's mind, searching for any clue that Snoke had sent him here to kill him.

" _Kriff,_ are you hard to find," Darin added, slightly breathless, removing his helmet. "I'm here to help you," he added, seeing the suspicious look on Ren's face.

"Where are the others?"

Darin looked around nervously. "Look, we can't talk out here— _you know who_ has spies all over this shithole—follow me—"

Ren glanced over his shoulder, taking a wide step to the side so that he was in shadow. Darin did the same, leaning nervously against a pillar.

"It's treason to abandon the Knights of Ren…"

"Snoke isn't the Master," Darin replied sharply, his voice low. His heavily-lidded eyes and heavy brow were cast into shadow, making his face appear more sinister than usual. "He doesn't command us—though Judro was happy to be appointed Master in your place—"

In spite of the tension, Ren snorted at that.

"You have to trust that I'm here to help," Darin continued, his voice sharp and full of warning. "You won't get far with Snoke's spies on every planet—here," he added, reaching into his coat and withdrawing his balaclava. "That scar of yours gives you away—now come on."

Ren had a split second to decide. There was nothing in the forefront of Darin's mind to indicate he was lying…

Ren placed the garment over his head quickly, positioning the fabric over his face and pulling his hood up once more. He followed Darin through the cramped street, weaving between the throngs of people toward his escape.


	11. Reunion

**Invisible Light**

Chapter Eleven

* * *

Rey slept poorly that night, haunted by nightmares. She dreamt of the forests on Takodana, but as she ran from an unseen threat, deeper into the trees, the air around her grew frigid. Snow fell softly, illuminated by the blue blade of her lightsaber. Then the atmosphere changed—suddenly she was laying chase, darting between the trees and swinging her weapon high over a man lying defenseless in the snow—

"Rey?"

Rey snapped out of her reverie, her eyes searching Luke's face. She swallowed hard, determined to set her features into an expression of sleepy neutrality.

Luke hesitated, searching Rey's face for a long moment. His blue eyes were careworn, worried… He sat down heavily across from Rey. "We need to discuss our plan to find Ben."

Rey took a bite of her breakfast slowly so she didn't have to speak.

"Leia will supply us with every map and rumor she knows of," Luke continued, picking up a few fish from the pan with his fingers and adding them to his bowl. "But to find him—really find him—you will need to open up your mind and allow the connection you share to guide you."

"I'm not letting him anywhere near my mind," Rey replied sharply.

"You won't need to—it is _his_ mind you are trying to access," Luke told her with his usual patience. "You must let the Force be your guide… Leia has a few people in mind for who can accompany you—"

"Wait," Rey interrupted. "You're not coming with me?"

"I am not," Luke replied simply.

Rey's jaw dropped. Before she could protest, Luke added, "I am needed here—besides, Ben might be more easily persuaded if he doesn't feel…cornered. He might mistake our intentions as something other than peaceful."

"Is that right," Rey muttered mutinously, stabbing at her food.

"Unfortunately you cannot take the _Falcon,"_ Luke continued, pretending not to hear Rey. "It's too obvious—too easily tracked by First Order and Resistance alike. Our friend Nomi Sisk volunteered to take you, though the rest of her crew preferred to stay behind on Dantooine and D'Qar. And Leia tells me your friend Finn insisted on accompanying you no matter what."

Rey's heart lifted a little at that. If she was going to search the far reaches of the universe for a man who didn't want to be found, then some pleasant company would certainly make it more tolerable.

"You will also need a weapon," Luke continued, reaching into his robes. "Tradition dictates you build your own, but seeing as this one called out to you…" He withdrew the lightsaber from Takodana.

Rey's eyes widened in surprise and excitement. Slowly she reached out for it, her fingers wrapping around the cool metal hilt. It felt electric in her grip, and Rey had the sudden urge to ignite it, to verify it really was the same lightsaber.

"I certainly hope you will have no need for it," Luke added. "But a Jedi apprentice should never go into the galaxy unarmed."

Rey's gaze turned back to her teacher's face. "I can't leave you unarmed."

"I'm not," Luke replied cryptically. "Besides, you are the one walking into danger—Poe Dameron is picking you up in an unmarked vessel and flying you back to Dantooine. You will regroup with the rest of your crew, and fly to Sullust to purchase a new ship—it cannot have any ties to the Resistance. Leia has already arranged a contact with you on Sullust."

Rey set the lightsaber carefully on the table, the dark cloud returning to her mind. "What if… even if I find him, what if I can't convince Ky— _Ben,"_ she corrected herself. "to come back here?"

Luke let out a breath slowly.

"Above all else, Ben is a soldier," he finally said. "He knows that Snoke must be destroyed. He will be reluctant, but in the end I have faith that he will come around."

Rey had a sudden mental image of herself somehow trying to kidnap Kylo Ren. It was not going to be a pleasant reunion.

* * *

Ren worked at the headache forming behind his eyes with his fingertips, taking in his surroundings with quiet interest. "Where did you get this ship?" he asked.

They were seated in the cramped galley on either side of a plain metal table; Samden, the youngest of the Knights before Ren, was cleaning sand out of his blaster while Darin poked at the instant food rations with a fork and a frown. Their armor and heavy layers had been tossed aside in a heap, and Darin's blaster temporarily forgotten on the end of the table. Nearby were crates of stolen goods: blasters, cloaking armor, tracking equipment, and food rations.

"We… intercepted it," was Darin's vague reply.

The corners of Ren's mouth twitched toward something almost like a smile. "The First Order's been searching for an RK-720 Freighter prototype just like this one."

Darin snorted. "It's been sitting in a junkyard for years. They call it the _Sivulliq._ Soro Suub should be more careful where they leave their stealth prototypes… Not that I stole it from them—We found it in Jakku of all places."

A vice seemed to squeeze ever so slightly around Ren's windpipe, his mind falling toward the Scavenger once again. He had been careful not to think of her in ages, afraid of the connection that had formed between them.

"That Unkar Plutt—such a moron," Darin continued, portioning out the food and sliding a plate toward Ren. "He had no idea what the ship's value was—we traded it for an ancient Q-ship and half a thousand portions. He's still pissed he lost that Corellian freighter to a defecting Stormtrooper." Darin's eyes met Ren's for a moment, and reading his dark mood, changed the subject. "We should discuss our plan."

Ren poked at his food. "What plan?" he asked quietly.

"Revenge," Samden spoke up.

The idea burned white hot inside of Ren. For a split second, he felt himself give in to the mad desire. A small, rational part of him knew destroying Snoke was impossible… but the need for retribution was overwhelming, a wildfire coursing through his bones and consuming every logical thought in his head. "It would be suicide."

Darin wasn't perturbed. "Remaining behind would be worse."

"Snoke appointed Judro the Master in your… absence," Samden added with a scowl. His food was sitting forgotten next to him. "But a new leader only succeeds the old one in death—Judro is no Master."

Ren didn't reply.

"He's trying to find that girl from Starkiller Base," Darin added. "He doesn't care about the First Order or the planets he governs—it's just a tool to him. Anything that gets in his way has to go—except for you, of course."

Ren's eyebrows pinched together.

Darin waved him off. "He may have abandoned you on that backwater shithole—but he would never kill you. You're far too valuable."

"But less and less," was Ren's dark reply.

Darin let out a heavy sigh through his nose, crossing his arms across his broad chest. "What do you want to do?" Darin asked after a long moment. "Go after Skywalker and fall back into Snoke's good graces? Or take out Snoke?"

"There's no honor in asking you to defect from the Knights for my sake," Ren replied.

"We didn't," the two replied in unison.

" _They_ are the traitors," Samden said with barely-concealed disdain. "Judro, Cassius, and Horvath know the same code we do, and the hundreds of generations of Knights before us knew it, too. We follow the Master. No one else."

Ren rubbed at the headache forming behind his eyes. He suddenly felt like a very poor excuse for a Master.

"Snoke is not to be trusted," Samden continued passionately. "It is a dishonor to the Knights that the others even presume to follow him."

"It's your choice, Kylo," Darin added. He pulled out his holopad and brought up the projector. Between them, a glowing map of the galaxy suddenly flickered into life.

Ren sighed, looking up at the twinkling 3-D map of the galaxy. He knew nearly all of Snoke's secret bases, the locations of his arms dealers, his most valuable production plants and mines… it was a suicide mission to take out Snoke, but not an impossible one. "SoroSuub is Snoke's most valuable company," he finally said. "Their sabotage would cause the most damage... But I won't target the First Order, even to destroy Snoke."

"There's no other way," Darin replied. "Snoke controls everything—it would be impossible to turn the First Order against him."

"What about… that Scavenger girl?" Samden suggested.

"What about her?" Ren asked, a more sharply than he intended.

"The Supreme Leader's looking for her—Judro was assigned the task of hunting her down."

"He'll never find her."

"But she's valuable. You hand her over to Snoke as some bullshit peace offering, and we kill him before he kills us."

"No."

"Or we kill the girl, and then Snoke has no choice but to use you—"

"I'm not involving the girl at all," Ren said sharply. "I don't want her anywhere near this—"

The two Knights exchanged a look.

"Then we have to target Snoke's military," Darin replied firmly. "I'm sorry Kylo, but you know as well as I do that those are Snoke's only weaknesses."

Ren pushed his half-finished plate away, his stomach suddenly sour. He racked his brain for another solution—literally anything else would do. It was true that Snoke needed to be removed, but not at the cost of the First Order… and the idea of dragging the Scavenger into the mess made Ren's heart seize up. What he really needed was more time… he needed to distract Snoke long enough for Ren to get close to him…

"Does Lothal still supply the First Order fuel?" Darin asked.

Ren raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

"How much of it?"

"You want to cut off his fuel supply?" Ren said, reading the other Knight's thoughts easily. "That won't stop him—"

"We just need to slow him down," Darin replied. Samden looked between them with great interest. "We have to get Snoke to rely on Lothal for all their fuel—just for a moment. Lando Calrissian is a friend of the Resistance Leader—we may be able to convince him to sabatoge the fuel, grounding all First Order ships for at least half a lunar cycle… Snoke will divert all emergency resources to himself—that's how we find him. Their sensors can't track this ship."

Ren and Samden exchanged a look. It was by no means a perfect plan—there were far too many variables that could go wrong—but there simply were no other options.

"It's the only way of getting to him without attacking the First Order or using the girl," Darin said. Even without the other man's earnest tone, Ren knew he was right.

"We need to go to SoroSuub first," Ren finally said. "And get all the weapons that will fit on this ship, because we're going to need them."

* * *

Sullust was a volcanic planet located in the far reaches of the Outer Rim. Despite its tumultuous history with both Empire and Republic loyalties, it had managed to remain somewhat stable and vastly productive. It was the home to one of the galaxy's largest suppliers of ships and weapons, SoroSuub, and an elite piloting school. Over eighty percent of the planet's native population worked in the production plants that serviced SoroSuub, living in intricate and advanced cities deep underground and commuting to the planet's surface for work.

"I've always wanted to go to the Sullust Academy," Nomi Sisk told Rey. They were over eight hours into spaceflight with ten more to go. They were in a Republic vessel, an ancient freighter that struggled to engage its hyperdrive unless the fuel cells were primed for at least twenty minutes. It was Rey's turn to rest while Nomi manned the cockpit, but Rey couldn't sleep. She couldn't fight the overwhelming sense of dread that was brewing in the pit of her stomach. "But I couldn't behave myself long enough to keep up the grades—so I learned to fly by racing on Corellia."

Rey was listening, but couldn't bring herself to reply. There was a moment's awkward silence.

"What about you?" Nomi continued, obviously trying to jar Rey out of her silent brooding. "You're a pretty good flier yourself."

"I was a scavenger on Jakku," Rey replied flatly.

Nomi frowned. "Not much flying to be done on Jakku, though, right?"

Rey shrugged. "I'm a better mechanic than a pilot—flying was just to test my work."

Another stiff silence.

"Look," Nomi said sternly, turning the ship to autopilot and facing Rey directly. "Don't worry yourself about the mission—we'll take it one step at a time."

"You don't know what he's capable of," Rey said, a little too sharply, unable to fight the mental image of Kylo Ren driving his lightsaber through Han's chest.

"Actually, I do," Nomi replied coolly. "You forget he interrogated my crew the day Cal died."

Rey's eyes widened. How could she be so stupid as to forget? She opened her mouth, an apology already halfway out, when Nomi waved a dismissive hand.

"No, don't apologize—what I meant was that I get it… but maybe you don't need to worry as much as you do."

Rey's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," Nomi replied, running a hand through her cropped hair and sighing. "But Leia and Skywalker are convinced we all have the same ultimate mission… the enemy of my enemy is my friend, that whole thing…"

"You could be killed," Rey told her seriously. She couldn't fight the urge that she had somehow made a mistake. "We all could—"

"I'm just as likely to be blown out of the sky smuggling as I am doing this, but at least this mission gives me a ship that's armed with ventral cannons—I'll never fly anything cooler for the rest of my life. Don't ruin this with your annoying need to protect everyone else."

Rey let out a feeble smile at Nomi's attempt to lighten her mood, but it didn't last long. The rest of the flight was silent and tense, and Rey's nervousness increased as they got closer and closer to their destination.

The air on Sullust was disarmingly thick, a sharp contrast to the dry desert heat of Jakku or the cool breeze of Ahch-to. Mountains higher than any Rey had ever seen before rose from the seas, lush and dense with a jungle even greener than that of Takodana adorning its peaks. Black cliffs fell sharply, hundreds of rivers and streams falling into sinkholes below. Eventually the dense green forest gave way to dark rocky mountains and even blacker sand—mines dotted the landscape in between steaming lava vents. Further along the continent, the first signs of the underground cities could be seen.

"The air borders on poisonous, by the way," Nomi told them as the vessel docked in the shipyard. "Try not to breathe too deeply. Once we get underground it gets better—they filter out all the crap in the air."

"Great," Rey mumbled to herself. She pulled her cowl more tightly about herself, pulling the fabric up over the lower half of her face.

The three exited their ship, half-expecting to be intercepted by the First Order army. Nomi, perfectly confident in her abilities to blend in, led the way. Rey followed in close proximity, clutching the fabric to her face—Nomi had been right about the air being toxic, but she had done nothing to warn Rey about the noxious smell of burning sulfur.

They exited the shipyard gates and joined the crowd forming around a train station platform. An intricate series of glass tubes led in a dozen different directions, overlapping one another and disappearing into the mountainous terrain. At the platform, an enormous computer detailed the exact arrival and departure of the various trains, complete with a labyrinthine map showing spots of heavy traffic or construction. All around them were people politely elbowing their way to their preferred platforms, all dressed in the same soot-covered uniforms adorned with the SoroSuub logo.

"We need to get there," Nomi said, pointing toward a part of the computer-generated map. "The blue route. That should take us to SoroSuub."

Finn was scrutinizing the crowds around them with a watchful eye. Rey tried to follow his gaze, but she couldn't see anything of interest.

"Right," Nomi continued, leading the way. "This should be it—"

The platform was a mix of stone and steel. Advertisements for SoroSuub were plastered over the walls, once-bright colors dulled by a thin film of soot. The lights overhead were partially exposed and flickered each time a train departed. Rey was fascinated by the odd platform—it had the off appearance of having once been an expensive station that survived a handful of volcanic explosions, stubbornly clinging on. The train itself—though rusty and rather dangerous looking—operated smoothly. Rey and the others boarded the car alongside the crowd, clinging to the railings for stability as the train lurched into life. Nomi was watching the scenery flash past the windows with mild interest, but Finn still wore a look of cool suspicion.

The train took them through a series of tunnels and bridges traversing lava fields before finally plunging below the surface. Tunnel lights flashed past as a woman's voice spoke over the loudspeaker: "SoroSuub Facility… next stop, Keff Base…"

The train doors slid open and a bulk of the crowd departed, scattering like flies across the brightly-lit platform. The station here was built with the same concrete and exposed wiring, but it was far less damaged than the shipyard. Television screens were affixed to the walls, playing an endless synchronized loop of SoroSuub advertisements and quips about the climate conditions on the surface.

"Keep your head down," Finn muttered in Rey's ear as they joined the throng traversing the grated walkway. "There are cameras everywhere."

Rey did as she was told, but her gaze still flickered up, peering out of the corners of her eyes. Sure enough, nestled in every corner of the train station were little black orbs with tiny blinking lights.

The city outside the station was remarkably cool, a civilization in perpetual night lit only by the buildings and streetlights around them. Most people traveled by foot, but a handful of hovercrafts darted between towering buildings and a monorail glided gently above them. The roads were smooth, carved directly into the cave floor and looping around underground waterfalls and giant walls of solid basalt. The city's occupants were more varied in town, dressed in everything from miner's jumpsuits to expensive fabrics and fine jewels. No one paid a second look to Rey and the others, preferring to continue on to their destination.

Up ahead, the bright lights of SoroSuub's headquarters could be seen. It was an expansive building, far sleeker than any other piece of engineering they had seen thus far, towering several dozen meters above them.

"Rey, you wait out here," Nomi ordered as they approached the entrance.

"What?" Rey exploded. "No—I'm coming with you—"

"No, because if the whole thing is rigged, you're too valuable," Nomi told her. She gestured with her head toward the opposite side of the street. "Go. Wait for us."

"They've got cameras in all the stations and every street block," Finn added. "So you can bet that there's even more inside the facility—SoroSuub's even got their own police patrolling—"

"How d'you know that?" Rey asked, taken aback.

"They're easy to spot if you know what you're looking for," Finn told her. "Nomi's right, Rey—you'll blend in better out here."

Rey opened her mouth to retort, but the stubbornness of her companions won out. "Fine," she snapped, unhappy.

"We'll be quick," Finn promised her, though none of them had any real control over the situation.

"Just come back in one piece," Rey told them seriously, looking from Finn to Nomi. She took a steadying breath as the others marched up the high steps toward the front entrance of SoroSuub headquarters. She watched them disappear through the doors, her heart beating furiously as she waited for the first signs of a commotion.

Minutes passed, and Rey realized she would need to do something other than stand in the middle of the courtyard if she was to go unnoticed. She glanced nervously over her shoulder, unable to fight the strange feeling that someone was watching her. Unconsciously she reached to pat her vest, making sure Luke's lightsaber was still tucked away. She sat down on the wall's edge, looking around the courtyard, watching dozens of people go about their daily business. They were all dressed in smart attire, faces buried in holopads or else chatting animatedly on their mobile devices.

Rey turned back toward SoroSuub; there was no reason to believe that this part of their mission would fail, but Rey couldn't fight the paranoia. She adjusted her weight, leaning back with forced casualness as she looked around her. The cave was illuminated by thousands of city lights, a contradictory world of perpetual darkness and constant activity. As Rey's eyes scanned the street around her, a pale face suddenly caught her attention.

She only saw it for a split second, but something in her stirred at the sight. Rey got to her feet, watching the man's back disappear into the crowd descending the steps toward the train. Without knowing why—other than the sheer fact that something silent was telling her she must—Rey followed. There were dozens of bodies around her, all humanoid and dressed in equally dark clothes as the figure she had seen, but Rey didn't allow them to distract her.

The crowd piled onto the awaiting train, but Rey knew he wasn't among them. The train doors beeped and slid shut.

The platform was practically deserted—overhead, the lights flickered as the last train sped away. Rey tried to open her mind, to sense where the man had gone. She ascended a series of steps and traversed a grated walkway, approaching the far side of the train station. A faint breeze blew through the cave, making the hair on the back of Rey's neck stand up. Rey moved slower, her footsteps lighter, following an invisible signature as she rounded a corner…

They both reacted on instinct, drawing their weapons in half a second. Their lightsabers were held between them defensively, red and blue.

"Why are you following me?" he demanded.

Rey had dreamt of this moment for months, had often wondered what their meeting would look like. She had imagined being stalked through space by a black, faceless monster, had dreamt of a crackling red lightsaber being driven through her chest… or of pushing her own through his.

But Ren looked nothing like her dreams. He was taller than Rey's memory of him, and his dusty change of clothes were less menacing than the black robes, but there was no mistaking that pale face or the long scar Rey had given him. The low light of the cavern cast half of Ren into shadow, stopping Rey from getting a clearer view of him. They were standing in the open platform, near the street and visible to any curious spectator, but neither seemed to care…

Rey knew what Luke would tell her: lower your lightsaber, de-escalate the situation… But Rey wasn't about to lower her weapon when there one was in the hands of her most dangerous enemy. Instead she raised it half an inch. "Because I've been trying to find you," was Rey's sharp reply. Her fingers gripped the hilt of her weapon more firmly, every nerve in her body ready to fight. She had only to give over to the suppressed rage she had been suffering for months…

"For revenge?" he guessed, an almost taunting note in his voice.

The gloating sent Rey over the edge; not because his smugness was itself maddening, but because the way he spoke reminded her of Han—and Kylo Ren had no business possessing any similarities to the father he murdered. Rey swung her lightsaber sharply, reacting without thinking, allowing her anger to dictate her movements.

Ren jumped back, dodging her blow as though he had expected her to swing—his own weapon rose in a sharp arc to meet Rey's, locking them in place. Between the glow of their lightsabers, Rey could finally get a clearer view of the monster's face. Dark eyes paired underneath a stern brow, a careful mask that betrayed nothing… but without knowing how, Rey could feel something creeping through her mental walls. She forced it out, focusing on pressing against Ren's Force-hold.

Suddenly Ren forced her back; Rey stumbled a few steps, nearly tripping. Around them, unnoticed, the computer screens built into the cave walls flashed advertisements for SoroSuub and alerts about the train schedule and the weather on the surface.

"You're wasting your time," Ren told her coolly, his weapon lowering. "Go back to Skywalker."

The callousness with which Ren spoke his uncle's name irritated Rey even further. She was well past trying to negotiate with Ren. She raised her lightsaber again. "We're not done yet," she hissed, using Ren's own words from their last encounter.

Ren stopped mid-step to look at her; his lightsaber was still held low, but Rey sensed his fingers tightening their grip. There was an unreadable expression on his face. "Do you think you can defeat me?"

"I did once before." Rey taunted. Then, allowing anger to course through her, she charged at Ren with full strength, swinging expertly as the Force gave her power. Ren defended himself, but something potent and invisible was coursing through Rey's veins. Their lightsabers were a blur of color, marring the ground between them. Rey could feel her hatred drowning them as she spiraled further into the Dark side, slipping over the precipice. Once or twice she nearly disarmed Ren, her lightsaber inches from cutting out his throat. Backed into a corner, Ren pushed her back with another Force block, using the split second advantage to dive into Rey's mind.

Hatred bubbled at the surface, fueled by her desire to kill him. She could feel Ren push past it, searching deeper for her weakness. Beneath the anger was fear; fear for her own life and that of her friends. Sadness over Han Solo's death and unexplainable loss… abandonment. The cloying pain of loneliness.

"Stay out of my head!" Rey roared. Something like fear softened the anger in her voice. She took a few paces back, her lightsaber held in front of her protectively, as though she could block Ren's mind probe with her weapon.

"You came all this way to kill me," Ren said breathlessly. His lightsaber remained lit in his hand, but he held it at his side with disarming ambivalence.

"You're a _murderer_ ," she spat, her voice heavy with the weight of accusation. It echoed in the empty space around them. "I should have killed you the night I had the chance."

Ren took a step to the right; she countered with one to the left, her lightsaber held out threateningly. "Then why didn't you?" he tested, his face back in partial shadow.

She hesitated for a second, then suddenly sprang forward, her lightsaber clutched tightly in her hands. Ren countered it easily.

"You came all this way," Ren provoked, his voice tired and heavy with irritation. He was openly taunting Rey, inviting her death blow with open arms. "How long have you hunted the galaxy for me?"

She swung again, nearly missing his heart. Their weapons were a blur of red and blue, slashing violently into the pillars and ground around them. This time, however, there was a hesitation in Rey's movements. She was distracted, losing her connection with the Force. Ren's goading was having an effect on her.

"How many nights did you dream of killing me?" he continued breathlessly, forcing her back. His movements became more forceful, more controlled as a familiar shadow began to work its way in. "It eats you from the inside—it's all you can think about—"

Rey dodged his blow; she ducked behind a stone pillar, trying to catch Ren from behind. He forced her back, and she tripped. Instead of dropping her weapon, Rey rolled with the momentum and scrambled back to her feet. Her elbow smarted from her fall, but Rey ignored it.

"I've seen your dreams," Ren told her coldly. "You think your anger—all of your suffering—will come to an end if you destroy me."

She was crouched in a defensive stance, her weapon held out in front of her. Tendrils of hair had worked their way out, sticking to her damp face. Her arm was scraped from her fall, but Rey ignored the blood trickling down her elbow. While she had anticipated Ren's attack, she wasn't quick enough to return the blow. Ren dodged her easily, swinging with such force that sparks flew from their lightsabers. In seconds Rey was knocked to the ground. Ren waited for her to jump to her feet before pushing her back again, holding her there.

"So go on, then," Ren goaded, approaching her slowly. "Take your chance and kill me. Get me out of your head."

Somewhere in the distance another train whizzed by, a rush of wind and noise enveloping them.

For a split second Rey was utterly convinced Ren would kill her. She reached out to the Force desperately, frantically searching for any connection to the Light, but Ren was more powerful.

"I don't need the Dark side to kill you," she gasped.

Suddenly the Force holding Rey relented. Ren extinguished his lightsaber, reattaching it to his belt. "No," Ren agreed slowly. "The Darkness is so out of place in you."

Rey sprang to a defensive stance as though electrified. In seconds her weapon was lit, held threateningly high. Ren caught her before she could swing, freezing her in place with one hand held out. He stepped closer until his face was only inches from hers, bending down so they were eye level. Rey could see him struggling to hold her in place, and was secretly pleased he at least had to work for it. He was close enough that Rey could hear her enemy's heartbeat as clearly as if it were her own. Her lungs were raw with exertion, but they shared the same breath... Rey felt herself reach toward Ren's mind, their mental walls colliding; she could resist his invasion, she had only to reach into his thoughts… the invitation to enter was beckoning her softly, and Rey almost allowed herself to collapse into his pull…

Slowly, Rey's dreams were in the forefront of her mind. The blinding anger returned, but this time Rey was a passive spectator. The nighttime visions of destroying Kylo Ren played across her mind's eye, but this time, Rey was horrified.

"Snoke is giving you those visions," he told her softly.

Rey adjusted her grip on her weapon, suddenly realizing that Ren was no longer holding back her hand. She allowed her arm to sink to her side slowly. Her brows were knit together in a frown. She took a step back from Ren, breaking the spell between them.

"He's trying to use you," Ren continued, an odd look on his face. "Just like he used me… Go back to Luke. Stay as far away from me as you can."

"And leave you to do what, exactly?" Rey asked suspiciously, her senses returning. "You're a murderer."

Something flickered across Ren's pale face at the accusation, too quick for Rey to recognize it, though it did give her pause. Was it grief?

"You know nothing." Ren turned his back to her and began to walk away. It would have been so easy to aim her blaster between his shoulders, but instead of entertaining thoughts of his destruction, Rey remembered why she had come all the way out here.

"Luke sent me to find you."

She had rushed forward, not expecting Ren to actually stop in his tracks. They nearly collided as Ren turned around, open surprise on his face. Rey took a few hasty steps back, unwilling to be so close to her enemy.

"Why?" There was no carefully-constructed mask on his face; from the glow of the platform lights around them, Rey could see that Ren's eyes were actually a very soft brown.

Rey was torn between the truth and a sarcastic remark. "Because…" she trailed off, trying to find the words. The Origin Story just sounded so absurd, and it did nothing to explain the sheer complexities of the situation. "Because he knows you're trying to defeat Snoke, and you can't do it alone," she settled on lamely.

Ren raised an eyebrow. "What, he proposes to help?" he asked, confusion in his voice.

"No," Rey replied sharply, irritation evident. "He just—look, we can't discuss it out here."

"We don't need to discuss it at all," Ren replied dismissively, turning on his heel again.

It took a great deal of patience to follow him again. "Would you just listen?" she demanded, grabbing his arm to stop him.

"You just tried to kill me—and now you want us to be friends?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. He pulled free from Rey's grip as though her touch burned him.

"I'd sooner watch you die," Rey hissed. "But Luke thinks you can be saved."

Ren snorted.

Rey fought the urge to reply viciously. "I don't agree with it myself, but since we all have the same enemy now, it doesn't hurt to do what Luke has asked," she said stiffly.

"Right," Ren replied, sarcasm evident in his voice.

"Don't be a coward—"

"I'm not going with you—and you're not coming within a lightyear of Snoke—"

"You're afraid," Rey accused, her voice echoing across the empty platform. "Too afraid to face the man you betrayed."

Anger replaced the cool amusement on Ren's face. "You have no idea what you're talking about—"

"Luke told me," Rey interrupted. "He told me all about you—"

Ren took a threatening step forward. His features seemed to darken, his brown eyes losing all softness. "And what have you learned?" he asked coolly.

"Very little," Rey bit back. "And certainly nothing that could justify what you've done—"

"Then you will lose no sleep over the failure of your silly redemption quest—"

They were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. They both turned to stare across the subway platform as two dark figures suddenly appeared. They were clearly soldiers, dressed in similar garb as Ren. Rey felt herself reach for her weapon.

"Time to go!" one of them shouted. Both newcomers paused at the sight before them, looking between Rey and Ren.

"Is that—?"

Ren gave Rey a quick, unreadable glance before turning to his companions. "Don't worry about it. Let's go."

"Wait, wait," the nearest one spoke up. He was eyeing Rey like a fountain in the middle of the desert. Rey's fingers clutched around the hilt of her lightsaber, waiting for any excuse to draw it out. The man glanced at Ren before turning back to Rey. "We can't just leave her—this is perfect—"

"No—"

Rey's lightsaber crackled into life instantly. Her heart was beating furiously against her chest. While blind rage drove her to attack Kylo Ren, a nagging fear was clouding her senses—three armed people was a lot to fight off alone…

The two men approached. Rey adjusted her weight on her feet, holding her lightsaber at the ready. Just feet away, standing almost protectively next to her, was Ren.

"Think about this very carefully, Kylo," the other said, palms up as he approached across the grate walkway. "We may never get another chance—this is the surest way to draw out Snoke—"

"If this was anyone else," the other chimed in, almost irritated. "You wouldn't hesitate."

Before anyone else could speak, anxious footsteps could be heard, fast approaching them. The two dark intruders reached for their blasters, taking aim near the entrance to the station.

"What the hell are you doing?" shouted a female voice. A pair of feet appeared, quickly followed by legs and a torso. Nomi Sisk appeared on the stairs, Finn just behind her. They both had their blasters out, ready to fire. "There are cameras everywhere! The First Order is here—everyone can see you idiots!"

In spite of herself, Rey glanced toward the ceiling along with the others. Sure enough, nestled in the dark corners, spherical black cameras recorded their every movement.

"It doesn't help that the local police are looking for a couple of thieves who just broke into SoroSuub," Finn added, shooting a particularly scathing look at Ren. As if on cue, a whining alarm rang out from outside the train station, and the overhead lights suddenly brightened ten levels.

"Run!"

They all darted for the exit at once.

On the main street level, the crowd was as tick as ever. Rey hurried to keep up with Finn and Nomi, who were leading the way. Ren and his companions had disappeared in the crowd. Rey stuffed her lightsaber protectively into her vest, exchanging it for her less conspicuous pistol blaster. In the distance the sirens rang out, and a floodlight searched the streets from an overhead hovercraft. The crowds stopped in confusion, looking amongst themselves for the source of the commotion.

"In here!" Nomi shouted, turning sharply into an alley way. "We need to get back to the shipyard!"

"How?"

"I don't know!"

The streets and tunnels surrounding SoroSuub were labyrinthine and seemingly endless. Rey, Finn, and Nomi ran through them wildly, ignoring the stares they were accumulating as they darted across main roads and weaved dangerously between traffic. Behind them, the sirens and flashing lights were getting closer. Before long, they were blocked on three sides.

"We can't outrun them," Finn said breathlessly. They were tucked behind an air recycler, taking shelter under the enormous fans. "There's too many—"

"We can't fight them off, either," Nomi countered.

Rey scanned the walls of the cave. "What about the lava tunnels?" she suggested. "It'll be harder for them to follow—and they lead to the surface—"

"Yeah, to the poisonous air—"

"It's better than being captured!"

The three exchanged a look of silent agreement before darting toward the tunnels. They crouched as they ran, blasters held protectively against their chests.

The caves were dark and hot. Only once they were a good ways inside and the sirens died down did the three slow their pace to a breathless jog. Rey pulled out her lightsaber to illuminate the cramped lava tube. The ground was rough and uneven, and the tunnel carved wildly ahead.

There was nowhere to go but forward.

* * *

They followed the tunnel for the better part of an hour, sweating in the dark, humid air. Rey was beginning to feel lightheaded from the unfiltered air, and wondered if her companions were just as miserable as she was.

Eventually the tunnel widened as it neared the surface. Cracks in the high ceiling allowed filtered light through, offering just enough light that Rey and the others didn't have to squint to see. Occasionally other smaller tunnels appeared, narrow vents leading into the unknown. The cave was quiet and oppressively hot, and Rey decided she didn't care what waited for them at the surface, just as long as they were outside…

Perhaps it was the heat or the poisonous air muddying their senses, but Rey and the others didn't hear approaching footsteps. In fact, it wasn't until the three men were in plain sight that anyone had the sense to yell out and raise their blaster.

The two groups pointed their weapons at each other, but no one fired. Rey recognized Ren and his companions immediately; she didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed.

"At ease," Ren told his cohorts without any real conviction. They looked just as miserable as Rey felt, sweaty and exhausted. They lowered their blasters slowly. Rey and the others were less inclined to follow suit.

Ren ran a hand through his damp hair, brushing it out of his eyes. "Which tunnel did you come from?" he asked Nomi, who was standing nearest to him.

"This one," she replied, pointing behind them. "You?"

Ren pointed to the left.

"Okay," Nomi said breathlessly, wiping her brow with the back of her arm as she looked around. "That just leaves four hundred other options to the surface."

Ren gestured to the two nearest tunnels, including the one Rey, Finn, and Nomi had been heading toward. "Those don't lead anywhere."

"Well, that narrows down one," said one of the nameless soldiers. He nodded toward the only remaining tunnel, picking up his feet and walking toward it tiredly. "I'll lead the way."

The other companion followed him easily, but Ren hesitated, looking at Rey and the others. He sighed tiredly, resigning himself to some terrible fate. "You might as well follow."

Rey had no desire to travel anywhere with them either, but they had no other choice. She exchanged a look with Nomi and Finn, who nodded curtly. They picked up their heavy feet and continued down the new tunnel.


	12. Not a Jedi

**Invisible Light**

Chapter Twelve

* * *

Rey had never been part of a stranger group in her life. Ren's dark companions—Samden and Darin—led the way, followed by Ren himself. Finn and Nomi were next, and Rey followed at a careful distance, her eyes constantly straying from the cave floor to Ren's back. Both Force-users had their lightsabers out to light the way, illuminating the uneven ground. Several times they stumbled anyway, tripping over shadowed crags and loose shale. No one spoke, too preoccupied by their own misery to comment beyond the occasional swear word.

After several hours, the tunnel finally gave way to the surface. A bright light could be seen in the distance, beckoning them along. The air was just as oppressive as ever, but at least they would be free from the claustrophobia of the lava tube. The last twenty feet or so were nearly vertical. Rey was an expert at climbing, but her limbs were exhausted and protested the movements. Only sheer stubbornness compelled everyone out of the cave, each collapsing on the lush green forest floor.

Rey laid against the smooth bark of a tree, looking into the distance. The cave had led them toward the verdant cliffside, offering a near-panoramic view of the gray rocky hills in the distance. The lights of SoroSuub could be seen through the ashy haze. It would be a long walk back to the city to retrieve their ship, and the air grew more toxic the closer they got…

Rey turned to Nomi, who had collapsed onto the ground next to her. "How did you find us?"

"We were tipped off," Nomi replied, wiping her brow with the back of her arm. "SoroSuub has cameras everywhere—they watch the entire city. A couple of lightsabers don't exactly help you blend in."

Rey felt her cheeks flush at that. How could she have lost control of herself so easily? She had rehearsed what to say to Kylo Ren and how to approach him—and none of it involved fighting in plain sight of First Order sympathizers. Though the man in question was with her now, Rey couldn't fight the feeling that she had somehow failed Luke.

A canteen suddenly appeared in Rey's peripheral vision. She had no desire to accept anything from Kylo Ren, but her throat was raw and the oppressive heat of the volcanic planet had sucked all the moisture to her skin. She took a long swig, watching Ren carefully. He appeared infuriatingly unconcerned by her suspicion, rubbing at a heavily-bandaged hand and looking out over the horizon with a crease between his dark eyes. He took the canteen back from Rey, passing it on down the line.

"Why are _you_ here?" Rey finally asked.

Ren looked down at her. Though she felt no invasive reach into her mind, Rey couldn't help the feeling that Ren was reading her thoughts anyway.

"Acquiring supplies, the same as you," he finally said.

"For what?"

Ren didn't answer, but his companion Samden did. "To hunt down the traitors who once called themselves Knights of Ren."

Rey exchanged a look with Finn and Nomi; that was not an answer any of them had been expecting.

"Why are they traitors?" Nomi dared to ask.

"We answer to the Master—no one else," Darin told them, resting his elbows on his knees. His gear and weapon were in a heap next to him. Despite being unarmed, Rey found the broad-shouldered man to be intimidating, even more so than Kylo Ren.

"So your friends abandoned you, huh?" Finn asked waspishly, his dark eyes narrowing toward Ren.

Ren shot him a cold look but didn't rise to the bait.

"There is no honor in betrayal," Darin replied.

"Really," Rey replied flatly, biting the inside of her cheek. She cleared her throat, then tried more diplomatically, "So you kill the other Knights of Ren—then what?"

Darin and Samden exchanged a look. Ren stopped fidgeting with his bandaged hand and turned to face Rey head-on. He studied her, dark eyes searching the periphery of Rey's mind for an unknown answer. "Would you believe me if I told you?"

Rey returned Ren's penetrating stare, debating if it was worth it to press forward and try to enter his mind. She couldn't say for sure, but she felt confident somehow that with the right encouragement, Ren might actually be truthful with her. "The rumor is that you seek to destroy Snoke," she said.

"Are these the men who killed Cal?" Nomi asked, her voice rough as she looked between the two Knights. "On Anthan Prime?"

Rey whipped around. "Nomi—"

"Anthan Prime?" Darin repeated, chin rising as he studied Nomi. "You're the thief from the desert…"

"I'm a lot more than a thief," Nomi replied coldly. "You seek vengeance, and so do I. I'll give you everything if it means killing the man who murdered Cal—"

"Nomi!"

"Are you insane?" Finn implored, turning on her. "We have a mission!"

"Our mission was to bring Rey to Kylo Ren and we did," Nomi replied sharply. There was a coldness to her voice that Rey had never heard before. "But I have a duty to fulfill, and I won't pass it up."

"Can you shoot?" Darin asked, completely unperturbed by the argument in front of him. "I won't say no to another fighter—"

"I haven't missed a shot in years," Nomi replied with a sharp look in his direction.

The Knights looked pleased with the new recruit, exchanging smirks. Irritation welled up in Rey's throat. She looked to Finn for help, but he looked just as lost as she did.

"Nomi, you _have_ to think about what this means," Finn told her seriously. "These men are First Order—you'd be betraying the Resistance—"

"I agreed to kill wicked men—and that's precisely what I'm doing—"

In spite of herself, Rey looked up at Ren, who had been watching the argument in a brooding silence. There was a puzzled look in his eye, though his face was carefully masked. Rey stared, searching for any crack in her enemy's façade. She hardly noticed the long scar traveling the length of his cheek. At first glance he looked nothing like either of his parents, Rey decided, but upon further study she found Han's quizzical brow and Leia's stern mouth.

It was unnerving.

Rey and Ren made eye contact while their companions argued around them. Rey had expected a self-satisfied expression, a look of smug contempt, but Ren's face was set into a worried frown. "Why did you really come here?" he finally asked.

"Why don't you just dig around in my head and find out for yourself?" Rey challenged.

Ren glanced around their odd group before turning back to Rey. "We'll take you back to your ship—from there you're on your own. I suggest you go back wherever you came from—"

"The woman wants to fight," Samden was saying behind them. The argument had gotten heated, and everyone was on their feet. "So we'll let her fight—you don't control her, Stormtrooper—"

"Don't call me that," Finn hissed. "I will never fight for the First Order again—"

"Samden, don't antagonize him," Ren admonished without any real conviction.

Finn rounded on Ren. " _You_ can stay out of this," he spat.

"These are my men—"

"Enough!"

Everyone turned to look at Rey, who had stepped in between everyone. "This is ridiculous! We didn't come here to fight—we didn't even expect to find you so easily—you want to kill Snoke," she added, turning to face Ren. Her heart was beating wildly against her chest. "So let us help you. Come back with me."

"Wherever Kylo goes, we go," Samden said.

"You weren't invited," Finn retorted.

Rey grit her teeth, her hands clenching into fists. Her patience was worn as thin as it could get without breaking. "Stop it! Ben and I can discuss this ourselves."

The name had been a slip. Luke had corrected Rey to use Ren's real name so often that it didn't occur to her that Ren himself might balk at hearing it. Samden and Darin's faces lit up as though Rey had uttered something truly shocking, and Ren paled.

"Or—Ren—whatever," Rey quickly back-tracked. She ran a hand over her damp hair, brushing stray strands out of her face. She set her features into a stern mask, trying not to betray the hint of fear she felt fluttering beneath her chest. The heat coupled with her irritation was making her dizzy.

Ren wasn't looking at her. Rey watched as he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, studied the way his brow furrowed together and how he played with the frayed edges of his bandaged hand. He turned to look at her suddenly, and the movement was electric. Rey kept up her guard, mentally steeling herself for a probe into her thoughts.

"Fine," he finally relented. He turned to Darin and Samden. He gave them a curt message in a foreign tongue; Rey had no idea what he said, but his tone was full of warning.

Finn gave Rey a look that clearly asked if she was out of her mind. "It's fine," Rey muttered to him. "Just don't let Nomi go anywhere—"

Ren led the way to a small clearing about a dozen meters away, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he turned to face Rey squarely. "What does he really want?" he asked bluntly. It was obvious to whom he was referring.

Rey unstuck her throat, already parched from the hot sulfurous air. "He knows you turned on Snoke."

His pale face was impassive. Rey took that as her cue to continue.

"And while you might be satisfied to go up in flames on a suicide mission, certain people feel like it's a waste," she added, crossing her own arms. "We can help each other."

Ren shook his head. "No."

Exasperation exploded in the pit of Rey's stomach. "What is your problem? Are you really so afraid to face Luke and the others? No one's asking you to rejoin the Light," she spat. "We all want the same thing, and we'll have far more luck if we work together."

"Your friend didn't sound too thrilled by the prospect of working alongside First Order," Ren told her.

"After what you did, can you blame him?" Rey spat. Ren was several inches taller than her, and he towered over her like a black cloud.

Ren snorted at the memory. "I disarmed him— _he_ was the one who wanted to fight."

"You nearly killed him!"

"And you left me to die, but here we are."

Rey could have screamed in frustration. She banged a single fist against Ren's chest, satisfied to see the man wince. "Or you could just kill me," she added acidly. "Wouldn't that solve your problem? Nothing for Snoke to take."

Annoyance flickered across Ren's face. "You seem to be under the impression that I enjoy taking life indiscriminately."

That comment stirred a familiar hatred deep inside Rey. "Are you trying to _justify—"_

"Watch your anger," Ren told her patronizingly.

Rage exploded inside of Rey at that. "Don't tell me what to do," she hissed.

"Fine. Slip into the Dark side, I don't care."

Rey had to fight the urge to swing at Ren. She had never known someone more infuriating in her entire life. His callousness, arrogance about the Force, and his determination to spiral into darkness despite knowing better made Rey insane. Her brain was determined to understand Kylo Ren, but he was a mess of contradictions. The sliver of Light—of Ben Solo—that occasionally leaked out muddied the waters even more.

"For someone who claims to detest killing, you seem to do an awful lot of it—"

"Would you believe me if I said I just didn't want to kill you?"

"Only if you admitted it was just to hand me over to Snoke—"

A smirk crossed Ren's face. "My uncle did tell you that the Jedi don't allow personal biases to cloud their judgment, didn't he?"

Rey fought the urge to hit him. "I'm not a Jedi."

"But you want to be."

"You say that with sarcasm," Rey said coldly. "And yet you have to force yourself to stay on the Dark side."

A dark cloud seemed to pass over Ren's face. "You don't know anything about the Dark side," he told her coolly.

Rey forced herself to take a steadying breath. They were veering way off track. She hadn't come all this way to trade insults with Ren. Rey thought of Luke, and the ancient white tree nestled on the back of a rocky island. She didn't understand it herself, but Luke was adamant, and who was she to argue?

"Do you really believe that silly story?" he asked, voice eerily tender.

Rey took a step back, instantly on the defensive. "Stay out of my head," she warned, teeth bared.

" _You're_ the one in mine," Ren told her waspishly. He had taken a step back from her. "Do you think I want to hear every silly thought that passes through your head? Dream every dream you have of killing me? Your presence is smothering—"

"I wouldn't go near your mind if you begged me," Rey retorted.

"Do you remember that night on Starkiller Base?" he asked, his voice aggressive and a strange look in his eye. Rey's heart froze at the memory, and her brain wrestled to reconcile that the strange man in front of her—the man she was imploring to return to Luke—was Han's killer. "In the forest?"

Rey adjusted her weight, defensive. "What about it?"

Ren ran a hand through his hair distractedly. He let out a sharp breath. "Near the end of our duel, I offered to teach you…"

Rey felt her anxiety rise. Her eyes narrowed. "I remember," she said slowly, wondering where on earth this conversation was headed.

"You got inside my head—more than that, you overpowered me with my own style of fighting—you channeled the Dark side where I could not—"

"No—"

"What, did the Light guide you to kill me?" he asked sardonically.

"I didn't—"

"You wanted to," he accused, and Rey heard the truth of it in his voice. "And you would have if it weren't for the planet collapsing—look, that's not the point—" He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. His palms were pressed against his temples. Ren's mannerisms were very human, so unlike the image of a monster Rey had crafted in her dreams. "Since then, you're always in my head—I see your dreams, I know your fears, and more importantly, Snoke does. He wants you, desperately, and it's a matter of time before he tries to get to you through me. He can't access your mind yet, but he can get into mine—and if we're connected, it's an open invitation."

Rey realized her mouth was hanging open and she shut it. Her brain was on fire.

"I won't take you to Snoke," he told her sternly. "He knows we're connected, but he doesn't know how strongly. Not yet."

Rey found her voice. "I don't need you to protect me—"

"You have no idea—you've never faced him," he continued, a menacing note in his voice. A dark shadow had passed over his face, and he looked more dangerous than ever. He took a step closer, his eyes searching Rey so intently she wondered if he could see inside of her. "He's a poisonous gas, invisible and odorless—you breathe him in and he settles deep in the dark places of your mind. You'll gladly abandon your family, betray your friends, and commit murder simply because he wants you to. There's nowhere to hide, and no way to fight him off..." He paused, his brown eyes searching Rey's hazel ones. "Or did you think that I was always a monster?"

Rey's breath was caught in her throat. A stinging had formed in the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let a tear fall—not for Ren. "Then you know better than anyone why he must be defeated."

"If you go anywhere near him, he will destroy you," Ren insisted. "He'll take everything—turn you into something you won't recognize—a simple Jedi can't stop him."

Rey inhaled and exhaled slowly. Her gaze drifted away from Ren's face; she couldn't look at him without her heart hurting. "I know you think the story's ridiculous," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But Luke showed me the tree... the Awakening, the connection between us… he insists it all means something."

"Like what?"

"Just talk to Luke," Rey implored. "That's all we're asking. I'll… I'll help you fight the other Knights if that's what it takes, but you _have_ to talk to Luke."

Ren ran a hand over his pale face, his fingers grazing the scar Rey had given him. He looked exhausted, and Rey couldn't help but wonder if Ren had always behaved so _human_ underneath the black mask. "Do you even know what you're offering?" he finally said, looking at her. "This isn't a Resistance mission where we blow up their ship and fly home."

"If this is what it takes," Rey replied stubbornly.

Ren raised an eyebrow. "Have you even seen a battle? Or killed someone?"

Rey crossed her arms, her jaw set tight. Her heart hardened at the insinuation that she was weak and naive. "I didn't survive in the desert for fifteen years by luck."

Ren gave her a long, appraising look. "If you say so." He turned to walk back to their company. His shoulders slumped, as if he was carrying an enormous weight invisible to Rey and the others.

* * *

It had been four hours, and the tense silence on the _Sivulliq_ showed no signs of abating.

The journey back to SoroSuub had been irrefutably miserable—the odd group traversed sharp slopes of shale and scree, conscious of the constant threat of sliding down the hillside into a boiling vent below. Nomi almost fell victim to the volcanic vents, losing her footing on the scree and toppling toward the molten pit below. It was only thanks to Ren's impossibly quick reflexes that she was pulled back, her arm locked protectively in Ren's fist. Razor-sharp volcanic dust ripped at exposed skin while the hot, oppressive hair choked them to the point of near delirium. In the distance, the bright lights of SoroSuub drew them forth, promising a breath of fresh air.

They had argued about returning to SoroSuub the way they had come, but Ren and his Knights insisted the First Order would be scouring all the tunnels. Their best route to avoid detection was also the most dangerous.

Once the city was close enough to touch, the Knights led them past the gates and toward the mountains. Darin explained they hid their ship from the prying eyes of SoroSuub's cameras, and so they endured an additional two miles of miserable walking before reaching their destination.

The ship itself was sleek and nondescript, about half the size of the _Falcon_ and painted jet black. It blended in with the mountains so well that Rey didn't realize they were walking toward anything in particular until she saw the glare reflecting off the cockpit's windows. The group settled themselves inside, pulling off layers of armor and clothing to get relief from the oppressive heat. Samden and Nomi made their way to the cockpit while the others laid on the cool metal of the floor. Within minutes the engines were online and the stealth craft returned to space.

Despite the ship's acceptable size, there wasn't much room—every room and corridor had been piled high with crates, all adorned with the SoroSuub logo. Ren certainly hadn't been lying about gathering supplies…

Finn and Rey were careful to stay together, their hands never far from their weapons. Too preoccupied with the prospect of revenge, Nomi seemed entirely unconcerned for their safety, and so it was up to Rey and Finn to stay alert. They were sitting inside the ship's galley, the only room not crammed with stolen goods. Ren and Darin sat at the far end of the table while Rey and Finn were at the other. A medical kit lay splayed open, its contents scattered about as the odd group tended their cuts and bruises from the journey through volcanic scree and razor sharp ash.

Several times Rey and Finn exchanged eye contact. Finn was entirely against the idea of joining Ren, even temporarily, but wouldn't leave Rey and Nomi to fend for themselves. He settled into quiet discontent, leaning back in his chair and glaring at Ren with his blaster laid protectively in his lap.

"Do you know where to find the others?" Rey finally asked, breaking the silence. Most of her cuts were shallow and superficial, but they still smarted under the sting of the antiseptic.

Ren didn't look up from his work of bandaging a very battered-looking hand. Most of his layers had been discarded as well, exposing bare and dirty skin. Rey could see his scar travel down the side of his neck and disappear into his tunic; she had forgotten just how gruesome that hit had been.

"I have a few thoughts," Ren told her neutrally.

"The easiest way would be to lure them out," Darin told him in a low voice.

Ren shot him a warning look.

"How would we do that?" Rey asked. There was no choice but to be diplomatic at this point. She yearned to distance herself from Kylo Ren, but she couldn't stop herself from staring at him, trying to make sense of him.

"Well, they're after you," Darin continued, shrugging. "Snoke's orders."

"We're not using Rey as bait," Finn interjected.

"Agreed," Ren added flatly.

Rey wasn't perturbed by the information the way she should have been. "Could that work?"

Darin looked thoughtful at the suggestion, but Ren's dark eyes flashed in her direction. "Absolutely not."

"Absolutely it won't work, or you don't want to?" Rey asked stubbonly.

"What about a false lead?" Finn suggested. "We give out false information that Rey's in some predetermined place, and we wait for the Knights of Ren to come—"

"And how do you propose we fight off an entire company of Stormtroopers?" Ren asked without looking up from his hand. "With six fighters?"

"The Resistance—"

"The Resistance will attract the attention of the First Order, and instead of a company we'll be facing a brigade." Ren shook his head. "Surprise will be our only advantage."

"So you plan to just track them through space?" Finn asked, eyebrows raised. "Do even know where they are?"

"I have an idea."

Finn rolled his eyes, shooting Rey an irritated look out of the corner of his eye.

"There's a conference with the Republic on Coruscant," Darin supplied neutrally. He sat up straighter in his chair, stretching his shoulders out. He turned to Ren. "Did you fix the recycler?"

Ren nodded.

Darin's chair scraped loudly as he stood up. He wasn't quite as tall as Ren, but he was almost twice as broad, making the room feel much smaller than it was. He busied himself at the galley's tiny sink, piling packaged bricks of freeze-dried food onto the narrow countertop.

"We're going to Coruscant?" Finn asked, eyebrows raised.

"Snoke has sent quite a few representatives to the sumit in the Imperial City," Ren told them. "including General Hux, which means the Knights will be with him."

There was a stiff silence, broken only by the sounds of Darin preparing their meal. Rey chewed the inside of her lip, absently watching Ren gather up the remnants of the med kit with his good hand. She felt herself tense when he got close enough to touch. "What happens when we get to Coruscant?" she asked. As long as they discussed tactical procedure, she could make herself be civil with Kylo Ren.

Ren tossed the debris into the ship's trash receptacle before rejoining them at the table. He rested his head in his hand, closed his shadowed eyes, and spoke to the room at large. "The Imperial City has an enormous underworld, which we can take advantage of when trying to move around... It won't be easy—the capitol will be swarmed with security personnel from the visiting diplomats."

"And your plan for the Knights?" Finn asked.

Ren pulled his holopad—which had lain forgotten on the table—toward him. A few keystrokes later and a holographic map of the Imperial City appeared before them. "There's a single road to the Senate," he explained. "Anyone coming and going has to go through that road—most of the security will be focused there. A simple diversion should keep them occupied for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. The trick will be to create a bottle neck—we might have to blow up a few inconsequential parts of the senate—"

" _What?"_

"We are _not_ blowing up senate buildings," Finn insisted.

"We're not trying to blow up the whole thing," Darin told them over his shoulder. "Just a few corridors, some doorways—hardly anything to get worked up about—"

"Do you have a map of the senate building?" Rey asked. "Do you know where they'll be?"

Ren tapped his holopad and the image shifted. "The Senate has twenty-seven floors, officially," he said, tapping the screen to draw up the main level. "They won't meet in the Senate Chamber—more likely they'll use the East Wing over here." He pointed to a long room on the far side of the map. "An assault is the only way to draw them out—they'll evacuate down this hallway here… there's a secret stairwell around here," he added, pointing to what looked like a boiler room on the map. "If they take that route, the nearest exit is on the far east side—a security shuttle would transport them to the Embassy—that will be our last chance before they're back with First Order."

"That's a pretty slim window," Finn said skeptically.

Ren shut off the holopad. He didn't reply.

"Can we separate the Knights from Hux? Draw them away from him?" Finn asked.

"It's possible," Ren said slowly. "It would require baiting them—the only person more valuable than Hux is your friend here."

Rey felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Which we're not doing," he added before anyone else could speak.

"Could it work?" Rey asked. She tried to keep her voice steady, but her heart was beating wildly against her chest.

"Rey, _no,"_ Finn interrupted sharply. "Don't even think about it—"

"It's not worth the risk," Ren agreed. "If this mission fails, we'll engage the Knights some other way."

"But they'll know you're after them," Rey countered.

"What you're suggesting means planting you within arm's reach of not only the Knights of Ren, but General Hux," Ren told her seriously. "Besides, the Knights are the best fighters in the galaxy. You wouldn't stand a chance."

Rey resisted the urge to argue.

"We'll narrow down the details once we reach Coruscant," Ren continued, rubbing tired eyes with his good hand. "Until then, I suggest your lot rest up while you can."

Physically, Rey was exhausted—but her mind was still running a hundred miles a minute. Their strange group ate their meal of First Order-issued freeze-dried rations in silence. Darin showed Rey and the others to one of the bunker rooms; it was a space about seven feet deep, with three narrow bunks built into the walls on either side. Rey and Finn chose the bottom set, facing each other in the dark. Nestled in a middle bunk was Nomi, already fast asleep. Her boots had been kicked off and lay haphazardly on the floor.

Rey let out a long breath, brushing her hair out of her face. "Do you think this is a mistake?" she whispered.

There was a pause. Rey could barely see the outline of Finn's face in the gloom. Outside their room, the ship was eerily quiet. For some time they could hear Darin and Ren discussing something in a foreign language, but that conversation had died down a while ago.

"I don't know," Finn finally admitted. "I don't like working with them—I get that he's left the First Order, but all I can see is Kylo Ren when I look at him."

"Did you know him very well?" Rey asked. "From before?"

"Not really," Finn replied. The tiny cot mattress creaked as he adjusted his weight on the bunk. "Just the stories—my first battle was the first time I actually saw him in person. The highest rank I ever dealt with was Phasma. But all the other soldiers called him 'Jedi Killer' behind his back."

Another silence. "Luke is convinced he can change. Come back to the Light."

Finn snorted. "Anything is possible," he finally said dubiously. "But that would be quite the shift—I was forced to be a Stormtrooper—he chose to be what he is. Or was."

"Do you think he's still Dark, then?"

Finn sighed. "I don't really know… he seems awfully protective of you."

"What?"

"Yeah, you didn't notice that?"

"No."

"I guess he gets some credit there," Finn finally relented. "He could just kill me and Nomi and fly you straight back to Snoke—get into his good graces again."

"Maybe he just doesn't do it because he knows Snoke would still kill him anyway—his usefulness is still up."

"I thought you were the one who believed he still had good in him," Finn pointed out.

"I just can't put them together," Rey admitted softly. "The man from today and the one who killed Han."

"Maybe because they're not."

Rey frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Just... I mean, Han's killer is the monster Snoke created... and this is Ben Solo without claws in his head. Still twisted, just not diabolical."

"Maybe…"

Silence.

"You know this won't be the end of working with him," Rey added seriously. "If he really does come with me to Luke… we'll probably be stuck with him until the end."

"Is this your way of asking me to stop fighting with him?"

Rey let out a small smile in the darkness. "It might help."

Finn sighed, a deliberate play of irritation to make Rey's smile wider. "All right," he groaned. "If I have to."

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

Rey pulled the blanket about her shoulders tightly toward her throat. "I'm glad you're with me for this."


	13. CoCo Town

**Invisible Light**

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

General Organa picked up a stack of reports to clear a few inches of space on her desk. She half-turned to set them somewhere more organized, but she was met with more walls of reports. Resigning herself to the chaos her tiny office offered, General Organa set the pile down on top of another and sighed heavily. Her office was a tiny cupboard of a space, but if offered her the solitude necessary to plan Resistance objectives, and to cry.

Lately she seemed to be doing a lot of the latter.

She cleared her throat, steeling her resolve, and turned back to the holo-projector on her desk. A black and grey flickering image of her brother was watching her patiently.

"Do you really think it will work?" Organa asked with trepidation.

"Rey and Ben have to discover it for themselves. And Rey would never have sought him out unless she believed she had to."

"She might never forgive you for lying, you know."

Luke sighed. "I can live with that. A small price to pay, all things considered."

Leia shook her head. "I never imagined this—any of this—" She let out a steady breath, a familiar sting working its way into the corners of her eyes. That was how her days went—plan and cry, plan and cry… She brushed at her cheek swiftly.

"Ben was Chosen," Luke told her, his tone imploring. "There was never anything we could have done—the only way to defeat the Darkness is to understand it. He _had_ to fall."

"I thought you didn't believe in destiny."

Luke hesitated. "I don't," he finally admitted. "But this is different—I wouldn't believe it unless I saw it for myself. The two are connected on a level beyond our understanding of the Force."

Leia took a deep breath—a steadying one, she had hoped, but her shoulders still shook with the effort.

"Ben was never destined for Light or Dark because he has both—he's where he's at because Snoke has manipulated both sides to work against him—Snoke envies his power and he fears it at the same time. And now that Ben's escaped Snoke's control..."

"Ben will never forgive himself for what he's done," the General whispered.

Luke let out a heavy sigh. The hologram flickered in its poor connection. "There is still hope… He has compassion for Rey, and if she accepts him, he might be persuaded to come back."

"Do you think that likely?"

"They have a bond unlike any I have ever heard—not two pieces of a whole, but rather they are one soul in two bodies. Rey will bring out the Light in him, I know it…"

The General's face hardened with worry. "But there's a darkness in her, too."

Luke didn't reply.

"I know you sensed it, just as I did," Leia continued. "Snoke's been searching the galaxy for her, and for Ben—he believes he can regain control of Ben through Rey. He isn't done with them—and if he exploits the Darkness in Rey—"

"I don't believe it's anything to do with the strength of the pull between Light and Dark—look at our own father," Luke explained. "I think it's more complicated than that. Our ability to allow or disallow fear to dictate our choices determines our destiny. People will do anything to avoid fear. In his mind, Ben's worst fears came true, so Snoke has nothing to manipulate. And—yes-Rey's fears are still very real and have a deep hold on her, but Ben can protect her. Ben cannot destroy Snoke without Rey's compassion, and Rey will never be able to defend herself against Snoke without Ben's protection. They _need_ each other."

Leia gave her brother a dubious look. "You have a lot of faith in them."

"He offered to teach her once before," Luke said. "They will be curious about one another—each time they're repelled by the other, the Force bond draws them back in, stronger than ever. They will have a deeper understanding of each other than anyone else could hope to have. They will understand in each other what no one else could—and in understanding is forgiveness—"

"And in forgiveness is love," Leia finished for him. She sighed. "Do you have a connection to her? Has she found Ben?"

There was a pause.

"I'm not sure," Luke said slowly, his voice heavy with hesitation. "She's almost as difficult to sense as Ben."

"Perhaps that's for the best," General Organa replied, shrugging. "The First Order is sending representatives to the Galactic Trade Summit in the Republic," she added darkly. "Grand Admiral Baric, Viceroys Velos and Korr, and a few others. Puppets for the First Order."

"Is the Republic at risk?"

"It's unlikely—we think this is just a propaganda move for the First Order—Baric has no real power. Snoke would send someone like General Hux if he really wanted to strong-arm the Republic. Our intelligence indicates that Snoke has actually been quite absent among the First Order. Most of the commands are coming directly from General Hux."

"You think he's looking for Rey and Ben?"

"I have no doubt of it—Snoke is extremely risk-averse. He could crush us where we sit, but his energy is focused elsewhere—he won't make a move as bold as Starkiller again without being secure in the knowledge that he controls Ben once more."

There was a long silence. "You said you told Rey that she needed to bring Ben to the first Jedi Temple," Leia finally said. "What are you going to do if she succeeds?"

On the other side of the holorecorder, Luke sighed again. "I honestly have no idea," he admitted. "It was just the most believable story I could come up with."

"But you did tell her about the Origin Story—"

"Maz Kanata did—I had plans to discuss it with Rey myself, but—"

"But you needed to use it to your advantage," the General finished for him. She sighed. "She might not trust you again if she discovers you lied to her."

"Rey's destiny is far greater than anything I could tell her," Luke said. "She might not be the Chosen One, but she will become the most important thing to the one who is. In many ways, the fate of the galaxy lies in her hands more than those of anyone else."

* * *

It had been nearly twenty years since Ren last stepped foot on Coruscant, and the impending reunion with his home planet was unnerving.

While the Knights and stowaways slept, Ren sat in the silent cockpit. Though the ship had full shields against radar, the latest technology in scanners, and was capable of flying on autopilot, Ren justified his lack of sleep with a need to monitor their status. He didn't trust that Snoke wasn't searching the galaxy desperately for them, especially after their little stunt at SoroSuub.

Ren could block Snoke out easily enough—pure, white-hot rage made sure of that—but his thoughts kept returning to the Scavenger.

Rey. That was her name.

She had haunted him for months, a heavy weight more present in his mind than Snoke had ever been. Her thoughts raced through his mind, her emotions nagging at the edge of his consciousness. Instinct told Ren to push her out, but some twisted part of him clung to her presence. It had been so long since he had met anyone like himself, and a secret part of him gripped to the memory of her face during their meeting on Starkiller, holding on desperately to the way she had first looked at him. Not as a monster or a weapon, but as a human being.

It was insane to allow her to be on his ship, but Ren didn't know what else to do with her. He could lose her easily, but if she didn't return to the safety of Luke—and Ren doubted it very much—then she was an open target for Snoke. He was stuck with her, at least for the moment.

"Reaching destination," the computer piped up, causing Ren to jump. "Dropping out of hyperspeed in ten…nine…"

Ren switched the controls back to manual, more for something to do to distract himself than for anything else.

"…two…one…"

The ship lurched as it dropped to cruising speed. Instantly light exploded all around the cockpit, illuminated by Coruscant's fiery sun. Ren navigated their stealth vessel around the various satellites, dropping low into Coruscant's atmosphere. His heart was in his throat, and an overwhelming sense of dread was threatening to choke him.

The _Sivulliq_ was protected against radar, but it still showed up against a stark blue sky. Ren kept the shuttle squarely in the middle of the cloud bank, relying completely on the ship's navigation system to avoid flying into any buildings. Occasionally the clouds thinned out and Ren could see glimpses the city surface several hundred feet below. Train lines wound above the roads, twisting between towers and criss-crossing over each other like a web. It was nearing dawn on Coruscant, but the city lights were already out.

Footsteps approached the cockpit, and Darin stepped next to Ren. He peered out the windshield, frowning. "What is that?" he suddenly said, pointing.

Ren dropped the ship a few dozen feet to give them a clear view. They were over CoCo Town, or at least the remnants of it: entire buildings had been blasted away by rocketfire, empty shells still smoking from the occasional fire. Debris littered the streets in heaps, burying entire neighborhoods.

A cold chill went up Ren's spine. Darin swore under his breath.

They flew deeper into the city. Tattered X-Wing fighters lay scattered across the city like discarded toys. Two mobile gunneries had been blasted into oblivion, burning brightly against the otherwise grey and gloomy landscape. Flags hung from the windows of buildings that still stood, an identical symbol emblazoned in spray-paint to mark who had conquered the city.

"I might be mistaken," Darin finally spoke, his voice low and full of trepidation. "But I thought summits were peace talks."

Ren swallowed the lump in his throat. "Go wake the others."

In the distance, the towers of the Capitol still stood, though they appeared far more careworn than Ren remembered. The heavy weight of dread that had sat dormant in his chest since the uprising on Anthan Prime suddenly pressed down on Ren's heart. If he had never betrayed Snoke, would this have been his mission? To blow up the Imperial City on his home planet and lay waste to anything that stood in his way?

If he hadn't been torn apart by his father's death, would Ren have gone through with it?

A sudden rush of footsteps and voices brought Ren back to reality. The others were awake, alerted to their situation by Darin. Ren could sense them peering out the ship's windows in the gunnery, shocked by the landscape before them. Their horror only amplified Ren's, and he had to focus to shut them all out.

There was an industrial park near the foothills of Coruscant's only remaining mountain range, nestled on the edge of CoCo Town and separated by a wide gully from the Imperial City. Ren landed the ship here, hiding between rows of abandoned freighters and commercial transport ships. He hesitated in the cockpit after turning off the computers and shutting down the ship's engines. He had tried reaching through the Force for the presence of the other Knights of Ren, but all he could feel was death. Hundreds of voices rose deep inside of Ren, twisting and fighting to scream out but unable to find a voice.

Ren got to his feet shakily and was met with the crew and stowaways in the narrow corridor, silently waiting for instruction. Ren felt himself falter for a split second before he pulled on his military training.

"We need to gather intelligence before we do anything else," he said authoritatively. "Canvass the parts of CoCo Town that are still standing and try to find out what's going on in the Imperial City. We'll gather more data if we split up."

"We'll take the Imperial City," Samden spoke up, gesturing to Darin. "The rest of you can split CoCo Town—east of the bridge and here—"

"I'll take the east side," Nomi said. "It's full of criminals—I'm sure I could find someone I know."

Ren, Rey, and Finn all looked at each other.

"Rey, you go with Nomi," Finn said before anyone else could speak.

The girl turned to her friend with a look of apprehension. "Are you sure?"

Ren tried not to roll his eyes. He stepped past them toward the galley, where the weapons containers were already laid out. Ren strongly preferred to fight with a lightsaber, but that involved close combat and he needed to keep as much distance as possible between himself and the First Order until they could plan an attack.

The crew split up into teams, darting through the damaged streets with blasters hugged close against their chests and sticky bombs bulging out of their pockets. The Knights cut through the wild gully toward the Imperial City while Nomi and Rey crossed the empty bridge toward the east side of CoCo Town. Ren was apprehensive about Rey creeping into enemy territory unprotected, but if she was clever enough to escape from her interrogation chamber on Starkiller, then she might be clever enough to evade the First Order.

Finn and Ren made their way through the most heavily damaged sections of CoCo Town, climbing over rubble and trying to ignore the sight of death that lay everywhere. The scent of iron and smoke hung heavily in the air, suffocating them. In the distance, transporters rumbled down a main road.

The two men, both former soldiers for the First Order, immediately fell back onto their training. They scurried down the roads, crouched low and taking shelter behind buildings as they moved closer to the First Order. They would need to get good visibility on the platoon's movements, but they ran the risk of being caught at ground-level. Ren signaled for Finn to wait, scouring the buildings above them for one that looked relatively stable above the third-story level.

Ren pointed at his choice—the top floor of a former apartment building—and signaled for Finn to follow. The First Order was incredibly close at only three blocks away.

The entrance to the building was a blown-out laundromat. A civilian and two Republic police lay dead in the doorway, forcing Ren and Finn to step over them gingerly before darting upstairs. They settled themselves in the corner, each taking a separate window inside the bedroom. They scoured the neighborhood for the First Order, watching them through their blaster scopes, but for over an hour all the First Order did was argue about which roads to clear of rubble. There was no sign of the local population, or of the Republic army.

So they waited, neither man speaking to the other, moving only to readjust their positions when legs and backs became cramped and numb.

"You can quiet your thoughts," Ren finally told Finn without looking away from his blaster's scope. It was well into midday, and there had been minimal movement. "They're distracting."

Next to him, the other man bristled. "Then stay out of my head."

"There's nothing of interest in there," Ren replied coolly. He rested the barrel of his blaster against the window sill, rubbing at a headache forming behind his eyes. His neck was stiff, his back aching from holding their prone position for so long. "But I can't focus on blocking you out when we have more pressing matters to focus on."

Finn pulled his gaze away from his scope, adjusting his weight to a slightly less painful position. He let out a sigh of irritation, and Ren felt the other man sort through half a dozen retorts before deciding against any of them. "I'm only here because of Rey," he said coolly. "And I only agreed to _this,_ " he said, gesturing to the tiny space between them. "so that Nomi and Rey didn't have to deal with you."

"How brave of you," Ren observed flatly.

"I don't trust you," he continued in a low voice, full of warning. "You didn't just decide to walk away from the First Order."

"That's an interesting observation," Ren replied with barely concealed sarcasm. "Isn't that exactly what you did?"

"I decided I wasn't going to kill for the First Order," Finn replied waspishly. He was glaring at Ren over his shoulder.

Ren sat down on the floor to relieve the tension in his legs and straighten out his spine, just for a moment. He considered retorting, but arguing with the ex-Stormtrooper would just make the mission more miserable than necessary.

"Who's that?" Finn suddenly asked, all hostility gone from his voice.

Ren looked up, squinting through his scope as he turned his blaster in the direction Finn was pointing.

"Looks like they're finally done cleaning," Finn continued. "Is that… _Phasma?_ "

The Stormtroopers who had been assigned rubble clean-up were now neatly lined up on either side of the road, saluting a convoy of First Order vehicles that rumbled through. The leading vehicle had stopped while a few nameless First Order officers exchanged words. Among them was a familiar chrome figure, standing at attention. Ren tried to focus on what they were saying, but a wave of fear suddenly rolled through his mind, breaking his focus. Ren shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but his ears were filled with the distant sound of screaming.

A high whistle, then an explosion. All around the buildings blew out with a single breath, shattering to the ground below. Darkness, screaming, the acrid smell of smoke and burning dust.

 _No_ , Ren thought sharply. It wasn't his reality. His blaster slipped from the window and Ren slumped forward, thumping his broken hand against the floor and trying to use the sharp pain to re-orient himself. The darkness withdrew, the heat of the bombing withdrawing instantly.

"What—what're you-?"

He ran a shaking hand through his hair before pushing himself back up. "There's an air raid," Ren told Finn breathlessly, ignoring the affronted look on the other man's face. He got to his feet stiffly, picking up his blaster and slinging the strap back over his shoulder. "Let's go—"

Before he could quite finish his sentence, a low rumbling overhead drowned out the silence, growing louder as it approached.

"Get down!" Ren shouted, dropping to the floor as a group of X-Wing fighters soared low in the sky above them, firing at some target not too far away. The building trembled at the impact, dust raining down from the ceiling. Once the X-Wing fighters passed, they only had a few minutes before they circled back around for round two.

Finn and Ren darted over furniture in their haste to get downstairs and out of the building. They reached the street just as the X-Wing fighters passed once more, shooting at a target that felt too close for comfort.

"We need to find the others!" Finn shouted over the explosion.

Ren was acutely aware of Rey and Nomi's location, but Darin and Samden were lost to him. He pulled out his data pad and checked their trackers. Sure enough, Nomi and Rey were still on the east side. Darin and Samden had made it into the Capitol.

"They aren't far from here," Ren said breathlessly, shoving his data pad back into his vest pocket. "Just across the river."

He and Finn ran through the city streets toward the bridge, neither man paying much attention to the fact that they were an open target for any sniper fire. In the distance behind them, the X-Wing fighters dropped a third round of rocket fire.

The two men rounded a corner—situated on the bridge was a convoy of First Order vehicles, a recently-erected checkpoint. Ren and Finn stumbled against their own momentum as they stopped dead in their tracks, ducking behind a blackened frame of some blown-up vehicle.

"What do we do?" Finn asked breathlessly, eyeing the First Order checkpoint.

Ren looked around them for anything they might use as a diversion. Several meters away was a single transporter vehicle, miraculously untouched by the destruction all around.

"How many sticky bombs do you have?" Ren asked.

Finn felt around in his pockets. "Six."

Ren pointed toward the transport vehicle. "We attach them underneath that—I'll send it over the bridge and blow it up—"

"We're trying to _cross_ the bridge," Finn pointed out sharply. "Not blow it up!"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Finn groaned, but Ren could feel him relenting. "At least cover me if they shoot!" he snapped before scurrying down the road. Ren watched as he took cover behind the vehicle, attaching his explosives to the suspension system underneath. Finn crawled back out, checking his surroundings before running back to the place where Ren waited.

Ren set his blaster aside as he reached out with his good hand toward the vehicle. He would have to be careful—the Stormtroopers needed to believe someone was actually driving the thing from the inside. The vehicle creaked as Ren moved it with the Force, gently gliding down the empty street toward the checkpoint.

"Get your blaster ready," Ren instructed Finn. "Once they approach the vehicle we open fire—"

Next to him, Finn adjusted his position and held his rifle at the ready.

The Stormtroopers hailed the driverless vehicle, and Ren stopped. He and Finn waited with baited breath as the Stormtoopers pulled their weapons, shouting orders as they approached the vehicle. One Stormtrooper yanked the driver's side door open, faltering with obvious surprise to find the seat empty. Half a block away, Ren and Finn straightened up from behind their cover and opened fire.

The Stormtroopers, caught unaware, were unable to return fire before the transporter exploded. Ren and Finn ducked, flinging their arms over their heads as debris rained down around them. Shrapnel hit the burnt up transporter they were hiding behind, imbedding itself deep inside.

Ren's ears were ringing—he couldn't hear anything. He chanced a glance at the bridge and saw their opportunity to run. He grabbed Finn, who was still crouched low to the ground. He shouted something at the other man, but Ren couldn't hear his own voice. His signaled that they should run.

They darted between burning debris, cloaked by the black smoke of the explosion. They made it across the bridge and ran flat-out down the main road. It was entirely against either of their military training to run in such an open space with no cover fire, but Ren was confident he would feel it in the Force if the First Order happened upon them. They ran between abandoned transporters and even stopped trains—while the destruction was far less on this side of CoCo Town, it held the same eerie appearance of being suddenly abandoned.

Ren could feel Rey's presence nearby—he tried to focus on it, to pinpoint her exact location, praying that she wasn't dumb enough to block him out _now._

Finn and Ren turned toward the far side of east CoCo town when scattered blaster fire erupted. A few shots were fired at them in warning. Ren glanced over his shoulder as they ran, catching sight of a row of armored assault tanks, all neatly lined up on an adjacent road. The gunnery of one swiveled toward them before firing off a single mortar onto the far side of the city, where the First Order was located. In the distance, a siren blared to warn against rocket fire.

Ren felt her before they saw each other. Nestled against a downed X-Wing, the two women looked entirely out of place in their smuggler's garb. Nomi was firing at some unseen target in a distant window.

"Rey!" Finn shouted, rushing forward.

Ren could sense the sniper easily enough. He took aim with his blaster, his trajectory more precise than Nomi's, and fired a single shot. The incoming fire ceased immediately.

"We have to get out of here!" Nomi shouted.

"Where are the others?" Rey asked as they hurried away from the X-Wing and made their way toward the direction of the Imperial City.

Overhead, the First Order returned rocket fire. The missile whistled before crashing into the ground half a dozen blocks from where they stood. Ren and the others ducked into the cover of an underground train tunnel. The lights flickered ominously as the ground shook around them.

Ren brushed his hair from his eyes, trying to focus. In the city streets above them, rocket fire continued to bombard opposing sides of CoCo Town. His head was still spinning. "The tunnel will take us underneath the armored tanks," he said breathlessly, indicating that the others should follow him down the empty tracks. "We need to get out of the red zone—"

"Did you know about this?" Rey demanded, her anger piercing and red-hot.

Ren was pulled from his train of thought. He turned to look at her sharply, not quite understanding her rage. "What?"

"The First Order!" she hissed, gesturing to the empty space around them. "They're trying to take over Coruscant—a _Republic_ planet!"

Ren was torn between confusion and anger at the insinuation. "I had nothing to do with this!" he shouted back at her.

"We can talk about this later!" Nomi interrupted, stepping between them. "Right now let's focus on not dying!"

Overhead, a rocket landed dangerously close to where they stood. The entire tunnel shook, the vague threat of collapse omnipresent as dust rained from the ceiling and the lights struggled to stay on.

The four of them ran down the dark subway tracks, eager to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the battle waging overhead. Eventually exhaustion won out, even over sheer terror and adrenaline, and the four of them slowed their pace to a crawl.

"We need reinforcements," Finn said.

Ren felt his feet come to a halt. He turned to look at the others, frowning. They were full of hesitation, of fear for what lay on the surface above. It clouded their judgment.

"The Resistance," Finn continued sharply, bolstered by the knowledge that he had their attention. "They can help—"

"No."

They all turned to stare at Ren.

"This is not the battle we're fighting," Ren continued sharply. "This isn't about the Republic and the First Order—we're here to find the Knights of Ren—"

"Are you insane?" Finn exploded. "Look at what's happening! How can you justify what the First Order is doing?"

"That isn't the point!" Ren retorted, his irritation spilling over. He knew better than to argue with the ex-Stormtrooper, but his patience was nonexistent and stress was clouding his better judgment. " _That_ up there—" he added, pointing toward the ceiling. "—is exactly why we have to stay focused and not waste time and resources on meaningless battles! Our only advantage is secrecy and we're going to ruin our only chance if we waste it to save one city on one planet—"

"It's the _Imperial City,_ " Finn interrupted. "The Capitol of the Galactic Republic, the—"

"And it's another casualty in another war," Ren overrode him. "This isn't the first time the capitol's been under siege—"

"Are you even sure the Knights are here? Because I was under the impression we were spying on a summit, not walking right into an invasion _—_ "

"If you want to leave, no one's stopping you," Ren snapped.

"I won't leave without Rey—"

Ren found himself turning to look at the girl, whose face was full of apprehension. He was about to tell her she ought to leave too, to go back to Luke, but a twisted part of him was curious what she would say. Did she still want to keep their bargain? Was all of this worth bringing Ren to Luke?

Rey set her jaw. Though her voice was steady, Ren could sense the effort it took to keep it that way. She shot Ren a cold look before turning, more softly, to face Finn. "He's right—we have to defeat the Knights if there's any hope of taking out Snoke. The Resistance would never be able to get as close to them as we are now. I hate it just as much as you do," she added, shooting Ren another withering look as she talked about him like he wasn't there. "But there's no other way. We need him."

"We're wasting time arguing about this—" It was Nomi who spoke up. "We kill the Knights of Ren, and when that's all said and done, we can alert the Resistance afterwards."

Finn stepped forward, a look of disgust crossing his face. "Are you serious right now?"

"Of course I am," she bit back.

"You talk about it like it's a _bargain_ —"

"If we get side-tracked, a whole lot more will die later on," Nomi overrode before Ren could speak. "Aren't you the soldier? Shouldn't you be thinking objectively?"

"This is not a mission!" Finn exploded. "This is just revenge!"

"Who cares what you call it—it has to be done!"

"Since when did _you_ start caring about the fate of the galaxy?" Finn demanded. "Just yesterday you were ready to abandon your promise to the Resistance to get revenge—"

"That's enough!"

It was Rey who spoke. Her friends turned to look at her.

"The mission was to bring B— _Ren_ to Luke, and that's what we're doing. If this—" she added bitterly, gesturing around them. "is the price, then we find the Knights of Ren." She shot Ren a withering look, her silent accusation heavy with the weight of condemnation. She blamed him for her friends' argument, for their fast-dissolving alliance.

Ren returned the gaze with silent acceptance. Let her blame him… he was a scapegoat for many things, and a petty argument between two fragile-tempered beings hardly fazed him. What Ren really cared about was Rey's silent opinion of him: by blaming Ren, she was following in the footsteps of all who came before—Ren was the sacrificial lamb up for slaughter. They could use him, blame him, cast him away without a second glance… Despite their connection, the Scavenger girl saw him only for his utility.

A cold weight settled in his chest. He knew better, but Ren couldn't force himself not to care. To avoid disappointment.

"Let's get going," he said, his voice clipped. He turned away and continued down the dark tunnel, using all of his mental energy to block out the thoughts of those around him.


End file.
